


How to Polish Your Wand and Other Tips

by boononjie, SunAndMoon (LadyMorgaine)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, M/M, Potterverse Without Potter, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 85,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26154574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boononjie/pseuds/boononjie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMorgaine/pseuds/SunAndMoon
Summary: --A Survival Guide for the Teenage Wizard.In which there is an epic rivalry during the Triwizard Tournament, Durmstrang hates everyone's guts, and members of three different schools strive for the chance to become known as the best. They might even grow up along the way.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Hong Jisoo | Joshua, Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 31
Kudos: 55





	1. CHAP: The Tournament Awaits

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Harry Potter crossover only insofar as we use Harry Potter concepts. The actual players, the schools involved and even the Tournament got a makeover. Boononji and I had Ideas about what should be going on, and merrily changed some canon to make things fit. The boys are all strong wizards, with a few of them being as strong as Dumbledore or more... though not nearly as practiced, as schooled, as well-rounded. They're only teenagers, after all. Please consult the notes at the end of every chapter, they might give you an insight into the changes we made and clear some things up!

[Chuseok](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chuseok) _evening, Udo Hogwarts, September 30th, 2020:_

Jeonghan sighed as he slipped into his seat at the Slytherin table and heard something low in his back give a crunch of relieved tension. It was loud enough to surprise Im Hee-ahn, who sat next to him, and he had to summon up a tired smile for her. “ _[Juldarigi ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juldarigi)_ ,” he muttered to his fellow Seventh Year, and grunted at the amused cant of her eyebrow. “Hufflepuff won again. _Naturally_. I can’t wait for the day that Kim Mingyu meets someone stronger than himself.”

Her lips tucked into a reserved smile. “I heard that Gryffindor got stuck with Professor Lopamaua and the teachers’ team. At least you didn’t have that indignity.”

_Damn straight we didn’t,_ Jeonghan thought as the table started filling up. _Kwon Soonyoung is fifty years too young to catch me cheating at[kai-bai-bo](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rock_paper_scissors). _ Out loud, counting the students as they entered the dining hall, he shuddered as the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff contingent came boiling inside in a Ronald McDonald mess of mixed red and yellow. “Did you manage to see your parents, Im-ssi? Mine were here quite early for our family’s _[charye](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesa); _my mother mentioned that your mother had a mild ailment?”

Hee-ahn’s voice, when she spoke, sounded very dry. “She hurt her foot from walking around too much while shopping. Hardly a ground-shattering complaint. They’re still talking to each other?”

“Naturally,” Jeonghan muttered as he stared a few of the more rambunctious first-years into sitting down and shutting up. Not his House; his little kids knew what would happen to them if they didn’t follow protocol in the open. “She’s still irritated that your brother was born male and a match couldn’t be made.” With everyone glared into submission – even the rowdies from Gryffindor – he sat down again, slouching tiredly before years of training yanked him straight again. He managed a smile for Hee-ahn. “And you’re already promised in such a better match than poor me.”

Discreet titters surrounded them, especially when Hee-ahn forgot herself enough to roll her eyes.

“Quiet,” she ordered the table, as the Head Girl stood at the Ravenclaw table.

“Stand!” Kim Bo-na’s voice sounded tired for all its clarity.

_I wonder if she’s going to make it through[Ganggangsullae](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ganggangsullae) tonight, _ Jeonghan wondered quietly. _At least the girls didn’t have to take part in ssireum today. Mingyu-ya’s ninety percent muscle and ten percent puppy, I swear._

Everyone regardless of House stood as the teachers wandered in.

Professor Mett looked at them, nodded and sat as the rest of the staff took their seats as well; the school body bowed as one to the school’s hearth that sat just below the staff table, honouring those that had gone before, then another bow to the staff in thanks for the food.

Jeonghan counted the seconds in his head, spooling them out perfectly. “Sit!” he called when he had to, and led the kids in a race to let their butts meet their seats.

Food appeared in front of them, delicacies spanning the countries that the student body came from, a selection as dizzying as the celebrations held today. His jaw ached at the thought of eating any more _songpyeon_ or other sweets, so he grabbed the noodles as they went past instead, and watched to make sure the House Prefects kept an eye on the younger ones, most of whom seemed a little hyperactive after all the sugar of the day.

_Not my fight, thank the gods. I wonder how Channie is doing though…_

Jeonghan ignored the conversation around him as he leant to peer at the Hufflepuff contingent, smirking at the sight of his baby squished in between Jun-ah and Mingyu-ya as usual. He was chattering a mile a minute over his shoulder to Seungkwan at the Gryffindor table.

Jeonghan paused to look at Boo Seungkwan, and the tiny twitch of a frown that grew as he saw how pale the boy looked didn’t want to pass. _Still depressed about his IDC problems? Or did he practice too hard again?_ Sheer habit made him look at the Ravenclaw table as well; he sighed out loud when he saw the tired slouch of Jihoon-ah’s back. _I swear. Those two are going to make my head explode still, I…”_

The sound of a tiny voice being cleared next to him brought his attention back to the meal. There was a tiny firstie standing there, barely more than waist-height, with chubby cheeks set at maximum pout. “Yes?” he asked in English as he went through the list of names in his head. “What is it, Mr. Nguyễn? Is something wrong with the food?”

The firstie shook his head, still pouting. “Excuse.. me... Yoon- _ssi_ ,” he said with a high, piping little voice in halting Korean. “Trucker- _ssi_ said my year… we challenge you for more moon sweets?” He pulled himself up straight and held out a small fist. “I challenge Yoon- _ssi_!”

Jeonghan ignored the coos of the girls around him and eyeballed Miles Trucker, the fifth-year prefect in charge of the littlest ones; the tall Australian had the gall to shrug indolently at him. Breathing in, he tried very hard not to laugh himself, but merely turned around a little so he could face him full on. The firstie’s thoughts were so loud he actually had to work not to hear them, and his gaze was so forthright and direct.. “I accept,” he said formally. “Now, what do we do before we challenge people?”

The kid blushed pink and snatched his fist back before bowing. “Respect to our opponent,” and _that_ came through in clear speech, the boy had likely learnt it by rote. 

“And why?”

“Just because we are the House of the Cunning does not mean we can be the House of the Mannerless!” Mr. Nguyễn said as forcefully as he could manage. 

Jeonghan smiled slowly at him and nodded, then held up his balled fist. “That’s right. Call it.”

“Kai!” the boy said in a squeak. “Kai… bai… bo!”

Jeonghan knew he would throw up paper, he _knew,_ and lost on purpose, pouting like a pro. “Oh no!” he said as the firstie cheered. “You won!”

“Here,” Hee-ahn said, pushing a bowl of candies closer across the table. “Your prize, young sir. Most people aren’t witty enough to win against our Head Boy, well done!” 

Mr. Nguyễn danced a little dance as he got the whole bowl, barely remembering to bob another bow before he ran back to his section of the table. Jeonghan, shaking his head, lay claim to the bowl of japchae as it came past. 

Hee-ahn also pushed a carafe of water closer. “You realise the firsties are going to be little hyperactive trolls on that much sugar, right?”

Jeonghan managed a laugh. “No!” he said. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing that Trucker-ssi will be there to calm them down then. I _fully_ depend on him.”

“So vicious,” she drawled.

Jeonghan didn’t have much of a response for that. Instead, pouring himself some water he set to, half-wishing he had less manners so that he could suck up more food. Thoughts dinned against his head, hazy because he didn’t have eye contact but present; he pushed them away and considered the atmosphere instead. As festive as things were, he had a queer feeling that _something_ was catching up to them. He tried to cudgel his mind for a reason, but it didn’t oblige him.

The feeling sharpened acutely when the food finally appeared and Headmistress Mett stood from her spot. The noise in the room quieted, but there was an excited undercurrent he felt too tired to understand.

“Thank you,” she said in Korean, then English; Jeonghan spotted Professor Vadekar stand seconds later to start signing the conversation to the hearing-impaired students. “Now, we’ve had a wonderful meal, so thank you to the kitchen staff! As it is, I won’t hold you in suspense much longer. The staff and I have deliberated, and here are the results. This year, the students that will be going to the Tournament as our Champions are as follows…”

_Oh._ Jeonghan cursed himself out silently for forgetting; the combat selection heats had been only a few days ago. Unwilling, his mind chose to bring up old memories; he chose to ignore them in favour of the Headmistress’ speech as he looked around the hall. 

“For the fifth-years...” she said, “From Ravenclaw, Kang Youngho!”

The Ravenclaw table exploded into deafening cheers; Jeonghan clapped politely as he chose to look at the Gryffindor table instead. Most of the faces there were quizzical, and Seungkwan had his hands folded so tightly together Jeonghan saw his white fingers all the way across the hall. 

The Headmistress cleared her throat and silence fell immediately. “For the second spot...from Gryffindor, Boo Seungkwan!”

It was Gryffindor’s turn to burst out in deafening cheers. Seungkwan’s shoulders jerked as people slapped his back, and Jeonghan smiled as he saw Chan turn to hug him. _Silly,_ he thought as Seungkwan’s eyes started to water. _As if you wouldn’t get in._

“For the sixth-years!” Professor Mett called over the quieting din. “Ravenclaw, Lee Jihoon!”

_Deserved,_ Jeonghan decided. _He works too hard. Perhaps I can introduce him to Joshuji, see if that gets him to chill out a little. Only…_

“Second position! Gryffindor, Kwon Soonyoung!”

Jeonghan wanted to lie down on his arms and cry at that. Soonyoungie wasn’t a bad kid, not at all, but the two Sixth Years were like oil and water; Soonyoung had some kind of pathological need to challenge and occupy Jihoon’s attention, and Jihoon-ah was none too kind with how he rebuffed him.

_I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die._

“Our overall Champion for seventh year… Slytherin, Yoon Jeonghan!”

He was feeling so sorry for himself that one of his friends had to nudge him as his House forgot themselves enough to cheer loudly. 

_Well, Joshuji, it looks like I’m going to see you sooner than I thought. I wonder… I wonder, is_ he _going to be there as well?_

He eyeballed his plate, finally pushing it away with a sigh, mind lost in the memory of the previous week’s combat heats.

The meal passed soon enough and, after bowing again, the students left in a great rush of bodies, some to study, some for club activities, and some to change for the ceremonies still happening tonight. Jeonghan ducked them all, made his way down the short staff corridor to the kitchens, and knocked gently on the door to the kitchen, smiling at the short woman that opened it. Very, _very_ short… Mrs. Dunsany was a fae-blood of some sort, but she didn’t let that hold her back.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said in his best English, bowing. “May I…”

“Aish,” she tongue-clicked, and chivvied him up with a flutter of hands. “I know it’s respectful but I don’t need you bowing at me. Is it for the usual? I saw him a little earlier, he was practically asleep in his seat. Hold on.”

Jeonghan, suppressing a smile, nodded and ‘held on’. 

Mrs. Dunsany came back soon enough afterwards, bearing a gigantic pot wrapped in a colourful cloth. “Mind that he eats the whole thing. It’s important that he’s fully fuelled, especially working as he does.”

Jeonghan nodded, touched. Udo’s kitchen staff were legendarily incorruptible in their quest to feed the kids precisely right, but at times like these he appreciated that they were willing to bend too. “I’ll see to it, ma’am. Is there something I can do for you?”

She waved him away with a flap and a flourished kitchen towel. “Nothing at the moment. Go to bed early as well, you look pale.”

Amused, Jeonghan made his bow and turned. He took the path out the dining hall and around the back gardens, waving to Jun-ah in the _Byeoljali_ meditation square before he cut through one of the decorative gardens to the practical class hall. The moment he stepped foot inside he felt the queer heaviness of additional wards descend on him, but he pressed forward, eventually making it to a small laboratory right at the back of the building. Inside, he paused -- Jihoon was there, yes, but so was Professor Xu, and they had their head together over a gently simmering cauldron.

Jeonghan paused in the doorway to admire them. Lee Jihoon was one of the most driven people he knew, hounded by a family history he didn’t deserve, but he was _brilliant_ and Professor Xu Yuan equally so. If he hadn’t seen Jihoon-ah so tired earlier, he would never have interrupted: as it was he gently knocked on the door-jamb and cleared his throat.

Professor Xu looked over their shoulder and straightened, smiling. “Ah,” they said in their high tenor voice. “Right on time. Jihoon-ah, your friend is here. Come, put the stasis charm on and eat. We will continue tomorrow.”

“But it’s so close..” Jihoon began, straightening irritatedly like an angry little cat, but he bent his head as his professor gave him a Look. “Yes, _Shīfu_. My apologies.”

Professor Xu nodded and swept out, pausing for a moment at Jeonghan’s side. “Watch him like a hawk,” they murmured. “And take him for a Dreamless Sleep if he doesn’t keel over after the rice. He’s far too wound up.”

Jeonghan nodded respectfully, waiting until the Professor had left before he looked at Jihoon again. The stasis charm had been applied, and he had moved to droop on the old couch to one side. A little irritated, he moved to join him there and undid the cloth, liberating the clean pair of chopsticks before handing the pot over. “Eat,” he ordered. “It won’t hurt your stomach.”

Jihoon made a face like a cat sneezing but took the large pot and started to eat. Silence fell between them, and it was at least halfway through the pot before he spoke again. “I suppose he’s off celebrating like the loud _pabo_ he is,” he muttered grumpily. “Him and that whole lot.”

Jeonghan let his shoulder lower a bit and caught Jihoon as he keeled sideways to rest against him. “Eat,” he said again. “You’ve got to eat to stay ahead of the curse, remember? And I suppose he is, which is good, since it means you’re not… oh, hell.” Lunging with one hand, he caught the pot as it slid from Jihoon’s grasp as the younger boy fell asleep against him. For a moment he thought awful things at the witch that had cursed his friend’s bloodline, but all he could do was turn and make Jihoon a little more comfortable.

His thoughts wandered back to the combat heats for the Tournament and he let out a long, slow sigh. 

* * *

_Flashback, 24 September 2020_

Jeonghan slid into a place on the spectator stands in the physical education hall, grimacing at the hot, uncomfortable press of people all around. It looked as if the entire school were here bar the firsties with their earlier curfew, and Professor Kim was still down on the floor level, going over the ward patterns for the impromptu duelling arena with Professor Ong. Looking around, he very carefully didn’t glare at the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff contingent - so much noise! - but sought out his friends instead.

For once Jihoon found him, weaving through the pack of green to slip into a spot next to Jeonghan. “I’m sitting here,” he declared grumpily, arms protective around the bag on his lap. “That lot is being too loud.”

_And you’re too close to Kwon Soonyoung there, but you’ll never admit that, huh?_ Jeonghan thought wryly as he made space. “How’s Seungkwan-ah doing?” he asked out loud. 

“Not well,” Jihoon mumbled around a mouthful of Coke that he had smuggled into the school. “You know how brutal the commentators and the crowd were at the IDCs. Not that I expect him to lose today, but you’ll see. His confidence took a knock.”

Jeonghan nodded. A week before, the IDC Junior qualifiers for the Pan-Pacific region had gone nastily awry. Three of the countries had objected to Seungkwanie’s wand, two of them outright calling the boy Dark. It had stripped him of so much confidence that he had made an unbelievably bad showing for his track record, forced to fight with a backup wand instead of his main. He had still scraped a win - barely - but it had left him pale and shaking and in tears, and _that_ had not ended in the time since.

He looked as the wards went up, thick and deadening, around the first pair. Seungkwan was still outside, but he looked even more worried, jaw set and lip wobbly as he tried to keep a straight expression. Jeonghan breathed in when a Ravenclaw leant over to say something to him that made him go pale; he could see the flinch and indrawn breath at that distance, and nodded when another fifth-year, this time a Gryffindor girl, glared at the pair and moved to shield Seungkwan from whatever had been said.

_Good, good, at least they’re sticking together._

“I’m worried,” he said quietly to Jihoon, who had moved on to munching on kimbap. “Do you think he’ll have the control to keep it together today? If his wand senses that he’s that emotional, it might decide to act. Not that he doesn’t generally keep it together better than this...”

Jihoon scoffed and shook his head. “It’s not just that. His father’s family had words to say about his performance at the IDC. It got ugly, but the gist of it was how disappointed they were that Seungkwan didn’t perform better. From what I heard from Channie it was heavily implied that they wished his eldest sister had been born male and could be the heir instead.”

Jeonghan prided himself on the fact that he rarely got angry, and could generally conceal it well; instead of shouting at that he merely nodded, and made a little note in the back of his head to speak to his father. He’d worked too hard the past seven years to stop bullying in a naturally competitive school, he’d be damned if it came in from outside as well. Reaching to his wand, he twitched it slightly, and whispered a message to the tiny mote of light that appeared. He watched as it darted off, and paid attention to the fast, furious duel in the midst of the circle instead.

Seconds later, he felt the spark kiss Seungkwan’s one temple and sensed the slump of the boy’s shoulders, the slight lessening of stress as the spark whispered the message Jeonghan had sent to his mind.

_Relax, Seungkwan-ah. I believe in you whatever happens. Hyung will always be on your side._

Two hours later, with Seungkwan declared the winner, he watched Chan storm out to congratulate him the minute the last wards dropped, and smiled slightly as they disappeared in a crowd of congratulations. The match hadn’t been as neat as always, and longer than normal, but decisive in the end. 

_Yes. I should have a little word with Abeonim about the Boos. Looks like they’re getting too arrogant again, and he’ll be delighted to have something to use against them._

Course of action decided, he turned to deal with the _other_ big problem in his life, at least the one currently snoring and drooling against his shoulder, all the snacks and Coke long since finished. “Hey, Jung… help me with him, will you?” he asked the closest Slytherin beater, a person that tried to make up in muscle what he lost out to Kim Mingyu in height. 

Jung Yeosang grimaced, but knew better than to refuse Jeonghan, and reached down to scoop Jihoon up in his arms. “Dorm or medbay?” he asked as he stood, magical braces straightening him easily.

“Dorm,” Jeonghan answered. “If they give you issues, let me know.” He smiled as the Beater rolled his eyes. “Thank you.”

The knot of contestants and onlookers spilled out of the building as Jeonghan watched the Prefects chivvy everyone out. He waited until the hall was empty, thinking back to his own fifth year and the pressure he had been under then, and sighed as he shook his head. He was in seventh year now, and it was _his_ school -- it would be a cold day in hell before he let its standards slip _now_. And that Ravenclaw… well. A quiet word in the right ears would do the boy wonders.

Whistling, suddenly cheerful, he made his way out of the empty hall, Yoon Jeonghan started to plot.

* * *

_Friday Afternoon, 02 October 2020_

Seungkwan knelt at the foot of his bed to access his trunks, rotating the locks more by mind than anything else until the lid snapped up to reveal his clothes. He wrinkled his nose at the neat stacks of them as he tried to figure out what he wanted to take. Things were… things were _odd_ , and not just in the sense that his family had backed away from their normal chilling stance with regards to him. Not that he knew what happened there either, though he suspected.

Yoon Jeonghan played games, and tricked you into thinking he was a cheating idiot, and then suddenly the world changed and you sat there going ‘Bwuh?’

No. Something was up with his fellow Champion one year removed. Kwon Soonyoung had come in last night with a massive loss of points and a giant grin. When he shared that he had somehow lost a hundred points for daring to swim over to Jeju _in the dark_ , Seungkwan had known that something was up. Kwon Soonyoung might be an idiot, but there was a brain under all the fluff no matter what his report card said. He wouldn’t have risked a loss of his Champion status unless something major had happened.

Not only that, but the sixth-year had been _suspiciously_ quiet today.

He nibbled on his lip as he consulted the neat little list he had made: clothes (formal and not), duelling robes, care kits, extra socks and underwear, a little bit of money(enough to cover himself, Soonyoung and Chan for the time away), and his books. Jihoon- _hyung_ had been _extra_ dry about the mock Ancient Runes exam he had administered, so clearly he needed them. 

  
  


Fifteen minutes later, totally unable to concentrate on the last of his packing, he locked his things and made for Badger Central. By now his face was so known there that they just pointed him towards the upper level dorm room where he found Mingyu aggressively cuddling Chan on Jun’s bed. There was a floating board too, covered with some kind of Quidditch tactics.

“Honestly?” he harped as he entered, nodding to the board. “It’s not like anyone’s expecting you guys not to win the Cup this year. Again. Just do that Fumbling Freefall move you do normally.”

Mingyu coloured, nearly strangling poor Chan as he pointed at Seungkwan. “Spy!” he announced dramatically. 

“Shut up,” Jun grumbled, reaching to free a struggling Chan from Mingyu’s monster bicep. “It’s called the Finborough Flick and Mingyu, you _know_ he knows fuck-all about Quidditch so don’t be so gullible. Now, if it had been Soonyoung I would have been worried.” He paused, straightening. “A little. The rest of their team is shit anyway.”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes as dramatically as he could before he went to collapse on the bed as well, not-so-accidentally digging his elbow into Mingyu’s ribs in a bid for space. “Ha ha. Look, is this tactics discussion going to take time? Something’s up with the fourth member of your little pranking group, and…”

“Mingyu-oppa!” came a cooing voice from outside. “Mingyu-oppa, are you available for a quick talk?”

Mingyu might as well have teleported, he made his way to the door Seungkwan had left open that quickly, and with a ‘Sorry revision meeting!’ slammed it shut, falling dramatically against it afterwards. 

Chan leant in. “They’re still after him for advice before February,” he said. 

Seungkwan felt his eye twitch. “Come on. They still think he’s going to do their love horoscopes? Those things are all nonsense anyway. Just because you’re… born…” He fell silent for a while, pinned by glances not only from Jun, who was the best astronomer he knew, but Mingyu, who had a Thing about Divination. “Whatever. Look. What did you do to Soonyoung- _hyung_ anyway? Did the Houseketeers break up? And don’t say nothing, because I saw you guys had lost a hundred points as well.”

Chan smirked as he settled in, leaning sideways to swipe Twizzlers from Mingyu’s secret stash. “Jung Yeosang caught them on the beach about to get into the sea, and he had a fit. Started lecturing them about swimming safety and being idiots, and _then_ he found out they were drunk and it got even worse.”

“I wasn’t that drunk,” Mingyu muttered from the door. “Besides, I would have made it, and it’s not like we were going out without our wands?”

“Great,” Seungkwan sniped. “Drunk swimming _and_ drunk casting. What happened?”

Silence fell, with the three of them looking _particularly_ dodgy. Seungkwan kept on staring, internally betting on who would break down first.

To his surprise, it was Jun. His senior sighed and conjured a chair to straddle. “It was Ravenclaw,” he said tightly. “We were partying and then that asshole Trần came around and started making remarks about Soonyoung. You know he’s had it out for him ever since that Thing with the Yeti.”

Seungkwan winced as he remembered the event that had nearly caused an all-out war between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor in his third year. “Yeah, but I thought Professor Lopamaua told him to quit that shit.”

“As if he would. No. And then he made some pointed comments about how Soonyoung looked _weak_ in his match with Jihoon in the Tournament heats and was he losing all his Gryffindor bravery and things just went straight down the toilet.”

“Soonyoung- _hyung_ told him that he was the bravest and not to talk about Jihoon- _hyung_ and then Trần-ssi called Soonyoung- _hyung_ a pathetic stalking coward,” Chan said around a mouthful of Twizzler, absentmindedly breaking a piece off to pass to Mingyu. “And then he said that he’d win every challenge Trần-ssi could set, and… well… there was still a chance, but then…” He trailed off.

“Please,” Seungkwan said, caught between dread and amusement. “I’m not sure how this could get worse.”

“Gyu-ya decided to open his mouth,” Jun said, glaring down at his team’s Keeper. “He told Trần to shut up, that he didn’t know what he was talking about and that he should stay out of Soonyoung’s business with Jihoon, or that he’d be meddling with destiny.”

Mingyu groaned long and loud, sliding down onto the floor in a miserable heap; Seungkwan, surprised, turned to stare at him. “You did what?” he asked. “Are you actually brainless? How drunk were you? How could you say something like that?!”

Mingyu covered his face with his palms. “It just came out,” he mumbled. “Like it just… always does, and I couldn’t stop it, and I was _drunk_ Boo-ya. And I couldn’t think of what to do to cover that up, so I told Trần Soonyoung would make the Strait Crawl in the dark to prove his courage, and naturally I wouldn’t let him do that alone, and he just smirked nastily and walked away. And then later at the beach, Captain caught us and went nuclear. I think that little bastard tattled.”

Seungkwan wanted to cry; instead he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of _course_ he tattled. And now Soonyoung- _hyung_ is sitting there thinking he’s been robbed of an opportunity to prove himself to Lee Jihoon.”

“To be fair, it was as much my fault,” Jun said. “I could have punched his lights out, but Channie was there and I didn’t want Jeonghan’s baby to get into trouble.”

‘Channie’ ignored that like a champ. “What destiny?” he asked, half-fascinated. 

“Oh, don’t ask,” Seungkwan mumbled. “Honestly. It sounds as cheesy as last Saturday, when this loon said I was going to marry a vampire from a land of ice and snow.”

“I was trying to make a joke!” Mingyu snarled, embarrassed and pink. “Who even believes what tea leaves say? How would tea leaves know anything about the future? I was just trying to make it sound as dramatic as possible because you pissed me off with all your crying that week, you asshole! I won’t ever try to cheer you up again!”

Chan’s smile stretched wide. “Man, wait until Jeonghan- _hyung_ hears that one.”

Seungkwan lunged for him, but Jun got there first, sliding in between to make a sort of demilitarized zone. “The point _is_ that yes, that’s why Soonyoung is sulking in his dorm right now, and why we lost the points. Thank the gods it was Jung that caught us and not Professor Lopamaua, or we’d be up shit creek without a paddle.” He paused. “Literally. Apparently the hippogriff herd’s been having stomach trouble and they’re unhappy about being grounded until that’s sorted out.”

Mingyu got on his haunches, duck-walking over to Seungkwan to grab his hands. “You’ve got to save the Houseketeers,” he begged. “Go and curse him, or yell at him, just get him out of his funk, please!”

Seungkwan tried to yank his hands back, mostly because he had no idea where Mingyu’s had been. “I don’t give a shit about the Houseketeers,” he said savagely. 

“Seungkwan- _hyung_ ,” Chan said after what sounded like exchanged elbows between Jun and himself.

_Don’t turn, don’t turn, it’s a trap!_

Seungkwan cursed when, despite _knowing_ it was a trap, looked anyway and saw Chan’s piteous puppy face. Honestly, it was all eyes and a wobbly lip and why did that even work?

“Help us, _hyung_?” Chan pleaded. “Think of how it’ll affect Jihoon- _hyung_ as well, you know he’s not well, and… and…”

Jun smoothly took over. “And Soonyoung might just get it into his Gryffindor head to do something truly spectacular. They’ll take his Prefect badge and his parents’ll be devastated. You’re the only one that can sit on him now without anyone else getting into trouble.”

_How does this even happen? Am I really this kind of sucker?_ Seungkwan wondered pathetically, feeling himself cave. 

“Fine,” he mumbled. “Fine, I’ll fix your fuck-up. Just… just stop that, and let go of my hands.”

Seconds later, strangled by one of Mingyu’s biceps hugging him for all he’s worth, he found himself wondering what kind of fresh hell the Tournament would be.

_Needy Soonyoung-hyung? Check. Irritated Jihoon-hyung? Double-check._ Wonderful.

* * *

_Early morning, 03 October 2020:_

Seungkwan caught Soonyoung sneaking out of the dorm just as _Gaecheonjeol_ dawned, feeling heavy-eyed and not at all amenable to friendly celebrations. He stood up from the seat he had been curled in since early, took in the sight of the sixth-year struggling under a huge roll of paper, and didn’t even try to pray for patience. “ _Hyung_ ,” he said as sweetly as he could. “Look at you up early. I don’t think Hwanung is looking for a second wife, the bear is probably enough. What are you doing?”

Soonyoung jumped, squeaking shrilly, and in the resultant battle of limbs and feet and paper, he lost the battle with gravity. As he fell, barely catching himself from bruising his nose, the roll of paper flopped to the side, one corner flicked open to show huge letters painted on it.

Fascinated, Seungkwan reached to twitch his wand a little, unrolling it the rest of the way despite his _hyung_ ’s frantic gasp, and stared down at the words revealed.

It was… it was _fantastic_ from a certain point of view. Painstakingly painted in huge red letters on white, carefully formed unlike Soonyoung- _hyung_ ’s normal messy scrawl, and… and…

“Did you,” Seungkwan asked carefully, “make a dirty poem propositioning Jihoon- _hyung_ out of the _Gaecheonjeol_ song?”

Soonyoung winced as he got up. “No?” he said sulkily. 

Seungkwan looked at him, then back at the scroll of paper. “If we are water,” he began to read, “our loins would be burning. If we are a tree, your legs root around my waist…” He broke off there and gave a shudder. “No, you know what? I’m not going to read any further. _Hyung_ , what the _fuck_?” 

Distantly a chime rang and a jar appeared to float in front of Seungkwan; his right eye twitched as he dug in his back pocket and pulled out the coins he had on him to deposit in the jar.

“Serves you right for implementing a swear jar,” Soonyoung sniped. “Don’t you have to go and make sure the firsties have washed behind their ears? Don’t let me keep you.”

Seungkwan twitched again, breathing in and out slowly before he shrank the huge roll of paper and tucked it into his pocket. “ _Hyung_ ,” he said with all the deliberance he could muster this early in the morning. “ _Hyung_ , you can’t do this. Just because you’re upset, do you really want to humiliate Jihoon- _hyung_ like that in front of the whole school? This is bullying. Jeonghan- _hyung_ will descend on you like a ton of bricks, and they might…” He swallowed. “I don’t want to be the only Gryffindor at the Tournament, _hyung_.”

Soonyoung opened his mouth to snap back, but closed it almost immediately. He stood there for a second, hands balled at his side before, with an audible sigh, he shrugged and nodded. “Fine.” Grimacing, he made his way to a nearby grouping of seats and flopped down on one. “Fine. Okay.”

Seungkwan nibbled on his lip before he scooted closer and knelt down in front of Soonyoung, already waving his hand for the first-aid kit. “Look at you,” he scolded very softly, turning Soonyoung’s hands palms up to examine the carpet burn. Carefully, very gently, he set about disinfecting the patches, checking them for fibres. It was a band-aid over his nose next, little chickies dancing across a yellow plaster. “What’s going on? What’s really going on?”

Soonyoung slumped. “I threw the last match,” he muttered softly. “On the 26th, when we had the last match. Jihoonie was fighting, and he was getting angrier, and I kept pushing and pushing, and it just wasn’t there, you know?”

“What wasn’t?”

“Jihoonie’s fire. You know. What makes him him. It wasn’t there, and it scared me. He’s working so hard these days, and he’s just napping more and more, and I’m afraid he’s slipping away.” Soonyoung took a great, inhaled breath and shook his head. “So when I lay in bed thinking yesterday, I thought if I could just make him angry enough, I might be able to get it to ignite again. I thought I had a chance. But you’re right, not this way.”

Seungkwan frowned and sat back on his haunches to consider their duel. He had been so miserably afraid of not rising to his family’s expectations that he had genuinely not paid attention. “Yeah,” he muttered. “He has been a little tired lately. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been as savage as he should have been, given how I fucked up my Ancient Runes mock exam. I didn’t even notice.”

“Few people notice him,” Soonyoung said tiredly. “They just notice that he’s brilliant and they think that somehow that makes up for everything else. The rest of him isn’t some kind of consolation prize, you know.”

Seungkwan felt just a little humbled and insulted. How many times had he accused Soonyoung of being an airhead or an idiot? Swallowing, he reached up to make sure the edges of the bandaid were flat down the sides of Soonyoung’s nose. “There’s one person he listens to,” he offered. “I mean, aside from Professor Xu. If you promise me you’ll give things a break until we leave, _hyung_ , I’ll go and talk to Jeonghan- _hyung_. He doesn’t miss much. I’m sure he knows what’s going on.

Soonyoung shot him a look, weariness lifting a little. “You’d do that?” he asked.

Seungkwan held up a balled fist before extending his pinkie. “Pinkie-promise.”

Soonyoung’s smile was as bright as a sunrise when he curled his pinkie around Seungkwan’s. “Promise.”

* * *

_Afternoon, 03 October 2020:_

It took breakfast, a punishing run with Mingyu and a great deal of searching for Seungkwan to track Jeonghan down. The Head Boy knew the place like the back of his hand, and of all places he tracked him down at the Kwon farm, lounging indoors in the back in front of the heater. He looked just a little angelic like that, chestnut hair straying over his cheek whilst he slept, and Seungkwan felt absolutely _no_ remorse in poking him.

“Wake up, _hyung_ ,” he said crisply. 

Jeonghan mumbled and batted Seungkwan’s finger away, but Seungkwan didn’t give in, poking him over and over until the angelic expression turned to a devil one and Jeonghan sat up frowning fit to kill. 

Seungkwan didn’t let him start. One of the first lessons he had learnt from his Slytherin _hyung_ was he’d tug the conversation away like an undertow if you let him. “ _Hyung_ , what’s wrong with Jihoonie- _hyung_?”

Jeonghan blinked at him, stared a little and blinked again, brain apparently rebooting. “...what?” he mumbled. “Something’s wrong with Jihoonie?”

Seungkwan sank down on his haunches. “Today I stopped someone from doing something very stupid. But this person was doing it for a good reason, even though it was illogical, and the more I thought about it the more I could see they had a point. Jihoonie- _hyung_ is driving himself even harder than normal, and I’ve lost count of the times I’ve seen him passed out in his lab when I go to get tutoring.” He paused. “And, um, his spark is gone. His fire. That’s a direct quote from the, um, person’s mouth.”

Grimacing, Jeonghan sat up and finger-combed his hair back into place. “You’re going to an awful lot of trouble avoiding Soonyoung-ah’s name,” he muttered. 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Seungkwan said as innocently as he could, “I wasn’t even thinking of his name.”

“I _know_ , and that just makes it worse.” Jeonghan paused. “Okay, I can go with it. And yes, Seungkwanie, I’ve noticed that Jihoonie’s working very hard, but you have to understand that he has reasons why he’s so driven. Even Professor Xu commented on it, and Jihoonie was stupid enough to try and back-chat him about something.”

Seungkwan blinked, eyes wide. “He did what?” he asked incredulously. “Was he walking like a zombie or something?”

Jeonghan pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “You know it’s half Soonyoung-ah’s fault that he’s in this condition to begin with?” he asked sharply. “If he would just leave well enough alone Jihoonie wouldn’t feel so pressed. It’s been six _years_.”

Seungkwan swallowed. “ _Hyung_ ,” he said softly. “Please. I don’t know what’s going on there, but I trust Soonyoung- _hyung_. He wouldn’t lie to anyone about something important. He told me straight out that he threw the fight against Jihoonie- _hyung_. And even if you don’t care, if we don’t get it sorted now it’s going to affect the Tournament as well?”

“Do you think that I don’t care?” Jeonghan snapped.

Seungkwan blinked, then bowed. “No, _hyung_. Sorry, _hyung_.”

Jeonghan breathed out and reached to haul him closer. “What do you remember about the fight?”

“Not much,” Seungkwan admitted as he flopped down and stretched out in the little pocket of warm heat. “I was honestly dealing with some stuff. All I knew is that Jihoon- _hyung_ won against Soonyoung- _hyung_ , and that the fight had been shorter than normal. And, I mean, Jihoon- _hyung_ knows so much more, and I think he’s a little stronger…?”

Breathing out, Jeonghan lay down against the pile of pillows again. “I once knew a boy my age that was the strongest I had ever seen, Seungkwanie. He was _so good_ ; already an accomplished dueller and a master of transfiguration -- like Channie, you know? He could have taught Channie.” His voice faded a little, became gentle with memory before it strengthened again. “Facing him across a duelling circle is still the scariest memory I have.”

Seungkwan, utterly silent, turned his head to look sideways at Jeonghan. There had been emotion in that, emotion their Slytherin prince rarely let out.

“But I knew I couldn’t let him win,” Jeonghan continued. “Udo’s honour was on the line and more importantly to me at that time, my family honour was on the line. That’s where I learnt that even towering potential has weaknesses. I did go on to defeat him even though I was weaker than he was magically, because I pushed where he didn’t expect me to, and my desperation made me stronger. I tried to talk to him afterwards, but he never really forgave me. We parted indifferently, not as the friends I wanted to be.”

“It sounds…” Seungkwan swallowed. “It sounds epic, and sad.”

Jeonghan scoffed. “The point is that I’m very afraid that Soonyoung-ah is pushing himself into that same position with Jihoonie, and that in his drive to succeed Jihoonie is weakening himself, making himself _more_ vulnerable rather than less. Quite aside from whatever the hell is going on between them, that’s going to bite us in the ass at the Tournament. Durmstrang is… well, Durmstrang is very angry we won the last one, and they’re the first school we’re going to be at. You’ve heard of Choi Seungcheol, right? The dueller?”

Seungkwan’s mouth fell open and he sat up straight. “ _The_ Choi Seungcheol?” he asked. “I mean, it’s the first year I’ve been allowed on Juniors but I’ve heard of him! He’s the… he’s so strong they think with some time he could have outdueled most of the normal-ranked seniors as well!”

“He’s the Durmstrang champion,” Jeonghan said, voice light and just a little sad. “And if we’re not very careful, they’re going to wash over us like a bitter, crashing wave. And if that’s not enough enticement, a little blue birdy I know tells me he has an apprentice that might be better than he is. So you see, Seungkwanie, you’ll have to be at your best as well.”

Silence fell between them for long moments as Seungkwan tried to think through that one, _tried_ to be tactical instead of sad and confused and a little afraid. “What if… what if you petition the teacher to give us the next week and we can go to the arena in Jeju and work on our teamwork? Just us and the others going with us, so you could run it as a simulation, the champions against all the rest? And it might…” He swallowed. “And it might give you some time to figure out what’s going on with Jihoonie- _hyung_ as well, especially if he can’t duck into his lab for lessons and experiments all the time.”

Jeonghan gave him a thoughtful sideways look. “That… might actually work. Are you trying to learn how to be clever and manipulate people, Seungkwanie, hm? Trying to take _hyung_ ’s work? That’s positively Slytherin of you.”

“Aish!” Seungkwan muttered, grumbling as he spun over on the side facing away from Jeonghan and scrambling up. “I’m going to go and complete my packing, _hyung_. Enjoy your mastermind villain nap!”

“Nooo,” Jeonghan sulked, rolling over to wrap his arms around Seungkwan’s closest leg. “Nap with _hyung_.”

Try as he might, Seungkwan couldn’t get free, and thus was forced to lie down, talk about nothing much and nap.

* * *

_Very Early Morning, 04 October 2020:_

“Right,” Jeonghan said as he looked at the line of sleep-deprived faces in front of him. Headmistress Mett and Professor Thackery had long since decided they were going for coffee, and had left the students in front of the unassuming-looking building on Jeju. “Now, I was made to suffer the past week with details about the Triwizard Tournament, and as it is, we’re woefully unprepared. Half of us have problems with the other half, one is afraid he knows too little, the other is needlessly arrogant that he knows too much. Now, I know that you all think you’re perfectly reasonable adults, so allow me to get to this right off the bat: as the team is right now, we will _lose_.”

“What?” Soonyoung said, shoulders stiffening. “How can you just say that? We’re…”

“Shut up, _pabo_ ,” Jihoon drawled from the other side of the team.

“This is precisely what I’m talking about,” Jeonghan said as Jun dragged Soonyoung back into line. He frowned and reached sideways to Chan, who put a thick binder in his hands. “We have a week. No more nice Yoon Jeonghan.” 

He tossed the binder down on the floor in front of the line of Champions -- it landed so heavily it sounded as if a Sonorous charm had accompanied it. “There’s my all-nighter. That is everything I have been able to get on who might be on the list for the other schools. You’ll notice the section for Durmstrang is a little thin. I don’t have much on them beyond memory, and barely more on Beauxbatons, so I included as much as I could based on knowledge we have of their recent graduates that might imply a pattern.”

The Champions stared down at the thick binder, until Seungkwan finally reached to pick it up and cradle it to his chest, expression uncertain.

“Now,” Jeonghan continued. “You might notice that not only are you here, but the entire contingent that’s been selected to come with are here. They’re not happy to be here. They didn’t have to be here, but you still need training, so here they are. In the next week, they’re going to be on the opposite team -- yes, Kang, all of them! We’re going to discuss tactics and strategies, we’re going to run as many simulations here as we can. And in the end, we’re going to get it so that we can at least sit down at dinner like a cohesive group, because I can tell you the first one that shames me in front of either Durmstrang or Beauxbatons will regret it _for the rest of their life_. Now… get into the arena!”

They went, wide-eyed, and clustered in the centre of the arena as the others spread out and the wards started to go up.

“Anyone else scared?” Kang Youngho asked in a whisper. “I thought he was a _gentleman_. The past five years were him being nice?”

Jihoon snorted as he knuckled sleep out of his eyes, “Jeonghan- _hyung_ once gaslit an adult so bad they gave up and moved to an island in the middle of fucking nowhere just to get away from him. Thinking he’s a gentleman will only get you into trouble, Youngho-ya.” Swallowing, he looked up around the circle, gaze almost stuttering as he looked at the rest, then Soonyoung. “And you know it was a major bragging point politically last time that we won, and he was directly responsible for that, so I’ll grant he knows what he’s talking about. We’d better see what we’re up against.”

Seungkwan risked a look at the circle of students around them, wincing at the unholy glee on their faces. “Jeonghan- _hyung_ just wrote them a check to hex our asses off,” he hissed. “We’re in so much trouble.”

Silence fell amongst them, thick and uneasy, until Soonyoung stepped just a little forward. “Listen,” he said quietly but intensely. “We’re gonna win this. I will work as hard as I can to make sure of that. From now until the end of the Tournament, no matter how much it chafes, we’re going to do this like brothers. If you have a problem with me, come and talk to me. We’ll talk it out. Someone… someone recently pointed out that I can be too much and push too far. I’m willing to work on that, and I believe that we all are willing to work on our problems.” He swallowed and bowed deeply to Jihoon. “Jihoon-ssi, let’s work well together.”

Seungkwan watched as Jihoon, bulge-eyed from disbelief, nodded with no words. The words stuck in him, and he looked sideways at Kang, who he had never really gotten along with. Still, Soonyoung’s example humbled him a little. Swallowing down his frustrated hurt and pride for the moment, he bowed to him as well. “Youngho-ssi, let’s work well together.”

“Yes, let’s work well together,” Youngho whispered back, soft enough that they could hear Jihoon’s cracked request to Soonyoung as well. 

Seconds later, they all jumped as a sly voice spoke behind them. “Well done,” Jeonghan said idly. “I was afraid I’d have to beat you up for the first day to get this far. Now get ready, they’re going to start attacking us soon.”

Seungkwan blinked. “Jeonghan- _hyung_?” he questioned, confused. “You’re not going to help them?”

“No,” Yoon Jeonghan said, and gave them a lopsided smirk. “I’m with you guys of course. Champion, remember? Now… _get ready_.”

* * *

_Evening, 05 October 2020:_

Seungkwan whimpered with the force of magic rushing through him, struggling to keep it in a steady stream so that the shield didn’t shatter. Not too much, not too little -- it felt like the magical equivalent of endurance heats, and the guys weren’t being gentle in attacking it.

“More!” Jeonghan called from the other side of the stream where the rest of the team stood. His wand trailed a glimmering red glow through the air as he led the attack. “Confringo!”

The blast slammed into Seungkwan’s shield, underpowered but still potent; he thanked his lucky stars Jeonghan had told the others what to use, because…

“Too much thinking!” Jeonghan yelled again, and sent another _confringo_ at him, this one markedly harder to think about. “Just think of yourself, your magical core and the connection between the two. Don’t think about other spells!”

Seungkwan’s mind whirled dizzily as he tried to obey, but he was failing a little more every moment: he could hear their curses and his mind - trained by his studies - leapt with a counter to each, and he had to physically fight to keep from dropping the shield. His wand was shivering in his hand, heating slowly because he could _not_ keep to the correct amount of power, and things were going grey before his eyes, and…

“Deprimo!” Jihoon snapped out elegantly, barely moving to cast the spell

The blast just at the edge of where the shield met the floor was the last straw: Seungkwan’s concentration snapped and he flew back from the force of that elegant blast, slamming into the nest of pillows that Jun and Mingyu had conjured. It still hurt even though they cradled him, and his wand hand felt as if it were burning, and somewhere deep inside failure and a snarling monster met as he scrabbled up straight, hands held in a triangle before him. Oddly, _now_ it came easily, left hand gracefully spreading out a wall of force as he plumbed the depths of his core and drew up a torrent of magic to disperse…

Through dimming vision he saw Soonyoung kneel down and slam his wand tip-first into the ground, lighting up a huge array of runes. Their spinning, grey-hued torrent of magic contributed to his tunnel vision, and suddenly he tripped over his feet and he had no magic anymore -- just for a split second, really, but it woke him up and he crashed to the ground on aching hands and knees, panting for air. 

His eyes stung as sweat dripped into them. He blinked frantically to clear them, managing to struggle to his feet as the others closed in on him. “I hate that,” he whispered. “I _hate_ that, _hyung_! What kind of spell is that, it’s so jarring!”

Soonyoung reached to pat a piece of arm just above his elbow, the only spot still somewhat dry. “It’s a variant of a tomb-leech curse used in Guatemala by the Mayans,” he explained cheerfully. “They used to capture robbers and suck their magic dry to power wards. I tweaked it a little bit. You’ll get to them next year in Ancient Studies. Junnie helped me with the rune-work.”

Jun, grinning, walked over to chest-bump Soonyoung. “We drew it before you came in,” he said happily.

Kang Youngho - still a tool but at least a sympathetic one - frowned. “You’re still thinking too much,” he complained. “I don’t want to say it, but it’s such a Ravenclaw…”

“Don’t say it,” Seungkwan growled as he tried to wipe his eyes clear. It was enough that everyone was picking on his duelling methods, he didn’t need them picking on his House affiliation as well. 

Jihoon reached out to flick him on the forehead, grimacing immediately afterwards. “Focus,” he said. “He’s right. This isn’t potions, where every poison has a meticulously crafted antidote. Duelling is more forgiving -- you can step aside, or get away with a simple shield, you don’t have to use a spectacular counter.”

Seungkwan felt his eyes water again, this time with humiliation. He knew they meant well, but it didn’t feel good having his performance picked apart like this, and to be excluded from the testing in turn because he was too emotional and might overpower a spell. “Sorry,” he whispered softly.

Jeonghan clicked his tongue and motioned for the others to leave them and start up practice again. Leading Seungkwan over to the edge of the arena, he conjured a glass of water and a towel for him. “Look, Kwannie. We’re not saying it to make you feel worse and I can clearly see it, you _are_ feeling worse. Remember when we duelled this morning? What did I say?”

Seungkwan scrubbed at his face with the towel. “I don’t have the rhythm, and that duelling is like dancing,” he muttered. 

“That’s right,” Jeonghan said gently. “There are three approaches in duelling, right, you learnt this? You can overpower your opponent thoroughly, you can try to out-think them, or you can try to out-last them. The problem is, your core isn’t stable yet as much as we’ve tried, and until you can do so it’s going to be a toss-up whether you blow someone off their feet or blow them up. No, stop wincing. You can try to out-think them, but your problem there is you know _too much_ , you’re getting lost in it all. That’s why we’re trying to get you to concentrate on the third, out-lasting your opponent. It’s difficult, I know it is, and you can’t fight all your opponents blind angry, they’re going to wipe the floor with you.”

The tears ran in earnest into the towel that Seungkwan held now, despite Jeonghan’s calming hand on the nape of his neck. “I don’t know why it’s happening,” he mumbled through the tears. “I’m _trying_.”

Jeonghan’s hand tightened a little. “You’re trying too hard,” he judged. “Honestly, if it wasn’t illegal and dangerous I’d say get high before you fight.”

The noise that came from Seungkwan was somewhere between a cough, a snort and a sniff: stung by the ludicrousness of it, he straightened a bit. “ _Hyung_ ,” he accused. “No. But… I get your meaning.”

Jeonghan laughed and slapped his neck gently. “Think about what I said,” he advised, moving slowly to his feet. “I’m benching you from the rest of the duelling practice. Instead, you’re going to be doing footwork and dancing with Jun and Channie. We only have a few more days, so let’s see how much rhythm we can get into your soul, hm? Joshuji… well, he’s good at dancing and rhythm too.”

Seungkwan frowned. “Who is this Joshuji you keep talking about, _hyung_?” he asked curiously. “You mentioned him previously as well.”

Jeonghan smirked. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise for you. Just forget about him for now and do well on your classes with the other two, ok? Go on, get.”

Grumbling, Seungkwan nodded, and scooted to go and find the others.

Jeonghan watched Seungkwan walk away and shook his head as he returned to the knot of sixth-year Champions.

“I don’t like this,” Soonyoung said as he joined them; the Gryffindor handed over an iced tea but frowned furiously as well. “I don’t like picking on Seungkwanie like this, and I don’t like the fact that his core isn’t stabilised yet. He’s fifth year already, Mine was okay halfway through fourth year. Hell, even Channie’s is almost there.”

Jihoon, clearly too tired to snipe back, grimaced as he drank from the 2L Coke bottle -- he needed the sugar in it, unlike the others. “It’s difficult to stabilise because there’s so much there. I wonder…” He glanced sideways at Soonyoung. “You’re Muggleborn…”

Soonyoung bristled, brows knitting together. “Hey…”

“It’s not an insult,” Jeonghan said as he flopped down, bone-tired. “Just listen to him.”

“Sorry,” Soonyoung muttered.

“You’re Muggleborn,” Jihoon said tautly. “So maybe you don’t know the Pureblood families that well and I don’t think it’s the kind of thing he would talk about. The Boos are a very old magical line… _very_ old, but in the last few generations most of the time they only had one child each generation. So when Kwannie’s father rebelled and married a Muggle they thought that was the end of their line, and there was a huge thing about it. But then they started having children, and Kwannie’s two noonas are really good, but they were female, and not eligible to be heirs. They pressured Kwannie’s mom for a third child, and he came along, and for a while things were good.”

“But then they started picking again,” Jeonghan added bitterly. “They wanted to take him away to raise him ‘properly’, they had all sorts of ideas what a male heir should be like, and clearly a _Muggle_ wasn’t good enough to raise one. He grew up such a mama’s boy though, and knowing his father’s family hated her only made him more devoted. He can be very stubborn at times, but also conciliatory, so he’s trying to do his best in school, pushing himself to defend his mother’s honour. That just compounds the main problem even more.”

Soonyoung frowned. “What is the main problem then?” he asked, clearly irritated. 

“He’s too strong,” Jihoon said flatly. “Something about the pairing between his mother and father resulted in a magical core that’s huge, and then people make it worse by making it sound like he’s a wild sport, like he was _bred_ for it. Between that and his emotional stress trying to be the best, he’s going to remain wobbly like a custard until he thinks his way through it.”

Jeonghan nodded. “And that’s why I’m handing him over to the Houseketeers instead, and why I’m trusting you, Soonyoung-ah, to watch over him specifically. You’ve got more Taekwondo tournament titles than I’ve got normal titles, and you three are part of the dance club -- keep him focused on the physical, alright? I’ve already sent him off to Channie and Jun if you want to join them.”

Grinning, Soonyoung saluted. “Yes, sir! Let me go and do that right away.”

Jeonghan watched him leave before turning to Jihoon with arched eyebrows. “You’re looking a bit better. Getting some of your old flair back.”

Jihoon scrunched his nose. “A little,” he said begrudgingly. “And the _pabo_ backed off a little too, which I’m sure you’ve got something to do with. Thank you.”

Tilting his head, Jeonghan smirked. “It might surprise you to know it was that _pabo_ that noticed first,” he pointed out. “And he was the one that cared enough to make sure there was a plan to get you to feel better even though it was a stupid plan. You’re just as much of an overthinker as Seungkwan-ah, but I had thought you learnt to handle your situation better. So as much as it pains me to say this about our loudest Champion, you should thank him.”

“Stop,” Jihoon grunted. “My willing suspension of disbelief is already cracked enough by his offer to back off, I don’t need you to shatter it completely. Let’s just see how the Tournament goes, okay? And don’t fake, I know the possible repeat of what happened last time is weighing on your mind. You forgot I was there, and I saw it. Are _you_ okay?”

Jeonghan sighed long and low, heartsore. “We’ll see,” he muttered. “We’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * First of all, all of them aren't in this chapter, but they will be appearing as we go along. For your information, Udo Hogwarts has: Jeonghan, Jun, Soonyoung, Jihoon, Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Chan. They are also not in the Hogwarts houses they picked for themselves recently, as we didn't think it agreed well. 
>   * The structure of the Triwizard Tournament will be vastly different, as we had to overhaul it to fit history, our inclinations and simply how we could make it work. 
>   * Udo is an official franchise of Hogwarts in Scotland. 
> 



	2. INFO: Udo Hogwarts School of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After each writing chapter, we'll try to provide you with some information on the places or people in the previous chapter.

Udo Hogwarts Campus:

In the rush of desperation after the last wizarding war and with the coffers of Hogwarts devastated by the need to rebuild, alternative methods of accruing money was looked into, and it was eventually decided that it would open the school’s trademark to franchising -- schools that bore the same houses, animals and traditions as the original, but in other parts of the world.

The Pan-Asian countries, led by Korea and Australia, leapt at the chance to access a school that is markedly different in operation from Mahoutokoro, with its day school and strict insistence on Japanese. With China out of the running thanks to its communist structure and vastly different magical society that depends more on clans of disciples than centralised education, South Korea won the bid narrowly thanks to North Korea’s magical traditions standing (historically) united with their southern brethren. 

Today, the ‘Korean Hogwarts’ or Udo Hogwarts School of Magical Arts is situated on Udo (U-Island, so named because it looks like a cow laying down), and what few non-magical people there are all have ties to the school either through family or through working there. It offers the traditional Hogwarts subjects, updated in 2019, though the club activities there are more numerous than just Quidditch and Gobstones. There are swimming clubs, fitness clubs, choir, musical clubs and various other activities including a rather promising cross-country team.

The school itself comprises a rather wide campus of traditional hanok-style buildings scattered roughly in the centre of the island, with the rest of the island mostly farming communities dedicated to growing food that the school and the villagers need. Tourism is encouraged though the obviously magical parts are hidden behind discouragement wards and the like. Cars are not allowed except in very strict conditions - pregnancy etc.

The default language at the school is English thanks to the fact that it’s taught in most of the areas the school feeds from. Students generally pick up Korean as well, along with their native tongues, and between the teachers and the extracurriculars a student can learn just about any language, non-magical or magical. 

The school is strictly secular, although there are assembly halls for students that they can practise different rituals in. As it is a Hogwarts franchise, Celtic rituals dominate, but there are a multitude of faiths there from Islam to Shintoism. Professors and prefects watch strictly to make sure there is no persecution. That goes for sexuality and disabled students as well. There are a few openly LGBTQA+ teachers at the school, and all the buildings are disability-friendly, with older students assisting those that can’t integrate via medical means. Recently, a feather in the school’s cap is that a student managed to perfect ocular regeneration through potions, and that is now being rolled out world-wide.

Aerial View:

Current SVT Students:

  * Yoon Jeonghan - seventh year Slytherin. Head Boy. Pureblood.
  * Wen Junhui - sixth year Hufflepuff. Prefect, Quidditch Chaser. Half-blood.
  * Kwon Soonyoung - sixth year Gryffindor. Prefect, Quidditch Beater. Muggleborn.
  * Lee Jihoon - sixth year Ravenclaw. Pureblood.
  * Kim Mingyu - fifth year Hufflepuff. Quidditch Keeper. Muggleborn.
  * Boo Seungkwan - fifth year Gryffindor. Prefect. Half-blood.
  * Lee Chan - fourth year Hufflepuff. Quidditch Beater. Pureblood.



Moodboard:


	3. CHAP: Into the Hearth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hogwarts Champions travel to their first school of the tournament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get a glimpse of the full roster for the revamped Triwizard Tournament (now called the Tripartite Tournament) and see which schools are involved this time around. Please read the ending notes for translations and as usual, any foreign concept/term would be linked for your reference. Enjoy and welcome to Durmstrang!

_Late night, 11 October 2020:_

Jun shivered as he stepped outside the arena for the first time in six days, wincing as the cold night air brought tears to his eyes. It wasn’t as massively cold as he thought it would be, but there was enough of a thin wind to shiver down his spine and along his ribs. Blinking the tears in his eyes away, he stared up at the stars above them and sighed- the city lights were too bright to show him what their future might be.

He grimaced and jutted his hands into his jeans pockets, half-listening to the unhappy grumble behind him.

“...honestly _hyung_ , just because it’s green doesn’t mean that it’s good for you!” Seungkwan lectured audibly, voice sharp with tiredness and irritation. “You should have learnt that in potions!”

“The guy said it was herbal!” Soonyoung whined back. “And it was expensive, why would people sell expensive grass?”

Jun half-turned to watch the others exit the building. Seungkwan seemed apoplectic, given the way he was chivvying Chan on and making sure Jihoon’s down coat was buttoned to the ground.

“It’s not grass! It’s weed!” Seungkwan yelled back as he gave one last pluck to Jihoon’s jacket and settled the collar high around his ears. “You’re a Muggleborn! How could you not know this? And your parents are farmers! How have you never heard of marijuana before?!”

“Excuse me, Mister Botanical! I obviously didn’t inherit your intimate know-how of Muggle drugs!” Soonyoung sneered back; he pushed past and settled behind Jun, giving him a sidelong wink. 

Jun made an effort not to grin. Over the past week they had learnt that the best way to keep Seungkwan out of his head was to give him others to worry about. Generally Jihoon got the short end of that stick, and Chan was treated like a disobedient little brother that had to be protected, but it calmed Seungkwan down.

_If only he knew it really was Chan that got the weed for us,_ Jun thought idly. 

He had a bare moment’s warning before cold hands settled around his arm and Jihoon leant into his shoulder. The Ravenclaw genuinely did look better after the week, especially on the constant supplements Seungkwanie’s mother had recommended, but for now he still looked like a little polar bear in his long coat, cheeks pink and dark eyes closing tiredly. Grimacing, he lifted his arm to pull him closer, and took another deep whiff of the slightly polluted air. 

“She’ll be here soon,” Jeonghan said as he wandered around to Jun’s other side. “Very, very soon now, but she can’t come out in daylight.”

Jun looked down at Jihoon’s pink cheeks and reached to pluck his collar a little higher, just in case Seungkwan was on to something. “I’m still not sure how this lady is going to transport us all the way to Durmstrang,” he said. “From what you told me, they’re behind constant rotational wards and anyway, we’re a lot to Apparate there.”

Headmistress Mett stepped out next, carefully pulling on a pair of black gloves. Like this she really did seem tiny, shorter than Jihoon. “I regret China’s magical secession from the world,” she said quietly. “We suffer not having their presence amongst us for all that the ancient Egyptians claimed to have discovered magic first.” She paused, tilting her head at the bickering behind her, before her countenance brightened. “Children!” she called. “Quiet down and let’s play a game, shall we?”

Quiet did descend, albeit raggedly, until Kang Youngho scooted forward. “What kind of game?”

“Riddle me this, Kang-ssi,” the Headmistress said, pulling her cloak closer around her shoulders. “What walks on all fours in the morning, swims at noon and flies in the evening?”

From the other end of the queue, Professor Thackerey’s laughter was very bright. “No way,” he said, accent thick. 

Jun blinked at the question, turning to look at Youngho’s jittering form, but frowned.

_No way,_ he thought. _No way is it ‘man’, that riddle’s been changed, so it’s obviously not the answer. But what walks first, then swims, then flies? Is she talking about the[Peng bird?](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peng_\(mythology\)) Obviously not, one’s not been seen outside of China in ages. But… _

“Second clue,” Headmistress Mett said cheerfully as silence fell around her. “Come on. There are five points on this, where’s your competitiveness?”

“On the floor with the Champions’ egos,” Chan muttered as he shrugged into a thick down coat as well.

Jun winced at that. They had really not gone easy on their champions. 

“What’s always in the north, and looks down on us, and has a fondness for Golden Delicious apples?” the Headmistress asked whimsically.

Jun’s head shot to the sky, straining to see the stars there even though the light was too fierce, and his memories ran rampant trying to remember the star charts above their spot. _Ursa Minor? The Big Dipper? Sirius? *_

As he stared at the sky thinking as fast as he could it felt as if the cold winds of the north drifted down the street, and darkness fell across the street, massive and dark and covered in star-shine. It seemed ringed in numerals; he could see the fractals along her curves, the glittering sine wave of power that thrummed deep in every scale...

_Oh_ , Jun thought, and abruptly wanted to cry. _Oh_.

The dragon came from the stars first, and landed in the street in front of them with their shine still on her black hide; when she shifted into human form they were in her eyes, and her beauty caught at his throat. She smiled at them, long dark hair shifting like ink across her pale shoulders, and her presence was as massive as the constellation she had come from.

“ _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_ ,” Headmistress Mett said ironically as she stepped forward to clasp the Greater Dragon’s hands warmly in her own. “Nuwa, my dear, forgive my slow students.”

Jun stared, unable to look away. He physically couldn’t seem to breathe. Even in his first years in China he had _never_ seen one of the reclusive Ancients. Back home, everyone used to say that they had long since ascended to heaven to make an immortal court...

He only came too when small, cold hands wiped the tears off his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Jihoon said softly to him. “It’s okay. This is a good omen, right?”

_Yes,_ Jun thought, hysteria rising. _Yes, she is. But what does this mean for the future?_

* * *

  
  


_Very early morning, 12 October 2020_

Of all the strange things Jun had done in his life in search of adventure, flying on the back of a dragon was the strangest. The lady that had turned into the dragon wasn’t precisely one like he knew from COMC, but some kind of higher spirit, and it was all really confusing and half-familiar, and he had spent the first few hours on her back asleep in any case. Her back was as broad as a pavilion and her scales softer than he thought, even though there wasn’t much give. 

He had slept so well he hoped he didn’t drool on her.

It was dark below them and somehow he felt it should be really, _really_ cold, but the weather around them was lovely and balmy. He cautiously got to his feet and wandered around the others to what looked like the side edge of the pavilion and encountered a wall of something that didn’t want to let him through. It did, however, allow him to look down.

Nothing. He couldn’t tell how high up they were, he couldn’t tell where they were, and from what he could see none of the others were awake.

Frowning, he turned from the edge and made his way between the small piles of students to sit down on his sleeping bag again, momentarily disgruntled.

_We’re just a little above the Kazakh border,_ a voice said quietly in his mind. Very quietly, very gentle, but it was the kind of quiet that was only that because it seemed very far away. _I could make the trip faster, little one, but there is significant air traffic in this part of the sky, and there’s no rush._

Jun jerked up straight and blinked in the darkness. “I…” His mouth snapped shut as he remembered everyone around him seemed asleep.

Ahead of him, off in a direction that seemed ambiguous, it seemed that a little brightness started, a red-toned glow that was easy on his eyes. 

_Follow the light._

Grumpy - there were many _many_ stories about disembodied voices - he decided for a moment before going to follow it anyway. From what he had seen, his friends were sleeping calmly in any case, and would only curse if he woke them. The walk seemed to take no time and last forever, until the little red light remained stationary and there seemed a curved spot for him to sit on. He did so, snuggling back into it, and his back relaxed from the tremendous heat he felt soaking into him. It felt _wonderful_ , like a sauna. “Um, am I addressing the dragon lady?”

_You may call me Nuwa, if you prefer._

Jun blinked. “That seems… somewhat disrespectful.”

_When you’re my age, little one, respect doesn’t matter so much. As I said though, we’re above the border of Kazakhstan. Wonderful country, great food. And a moment we’ll be above Moscow. It’s only another hour or two. I had wanted to talk to you in any case. It’s been some time since I had contact with someone like you. You see the world the way ancient dragons do, Merit tells me._

“I..” Jun cleared his throat. “I have been diagnosed with a magical form of spatial-sequence synaesthesia,” he admitted. “Sometimes I see numbers and runes floating around me, sometimes it’s so intense I can tell what time it is by the way the world looks.”

_It’s not a disease. It is simply a remnant of your ancestry._ The voice paused. _I am keeping everything dark because most humans can’t handle the sky, but you might want to see. Do you want to?_

Oddly Jun felt safe, corralled back in the little nook that kept him warm. He settled for a simple nod.

Very slowly the darkness parted in front of him and he saw the world as it really was -- dark, yes, but there was a golden light from behind gilding the edges of everything. He seemed to be settled on a vast black snout and the way it curved suggested he had settled near one nostril. The sky in front of him…

The sky was a majesty of colours he had never seen before, like dawn but infinitely better. It glittered and moved, spun on the back of numbers he had never even thought of. They drifted in vast, golden arches across him like stars in the sky and sang down to him, speaking of things like wind and speed and the land and sky and stars and… and…

Darkness fell around him again, but his mind rang with the song he had seen, screaming pain along his nerves, until he had to sit with the heels of his palms ground into his eyes and try not to think, or squeak, or throw up all over her. “Ow,” he grunted. “ _Ow_.”

_You have lost much,_ the voice came again very faintly. _The Great Song is too much for you now. I am more sorry than you can know._

“I…”

_But what was lost may be gained again, if you are very lucky,_ she continued. _For now I think you had best go to sleep again. Just a little nap. We’ll be there before you know it._

Jun wasn’t sure how he found himself sitting on his bedroll again, but he followed her suggestion. He snuggled in, worming a path between Chan and Mingyu’s sprawled bodies, and was almost immediately asleep.

* * *

  
  


_Afternoon, 12 October 2020_

Seungkwan opened his eyes at a hand on his shoulder, moving from the best sleep of his life to confused and cold and awake. It wasn’t an improvement at all, he had been dreaming of walking on the beach with his little part of the Boo family, and he stared up sulkily at the face he could only see in curves, not definition.

“What?” he muttered ungraciously.

Soonyoung’s voice laughed at him, and _yes that was a Quidditch-sharpened fingertip, ow,_ poked at his belly. “Wake up. We’re nearly there, Headmistress Mett wants us to get presentable before we make landfall, and you look like a pouty scarecrow. She has toothbrushes and things over there.”

Grumbling, Seungkwan stood and made his way to take care of all his grooming, making a wordless promise to learn how she managed that functional bathroom illusion, and felt much more himself when he left. Everyone was looking similarly bright-eyed; Jeonghan handed him a granola bar and absentmindedly faffed about plucking Seungkwan’s cloak and gloves straight.

_As if I’m not the one to do that normally,_ honestly.

“Pay attention,” Professor Thackerey’s voice came from the other side of the little circle they made on the dragon lady’s back. “We’re perhaps a few minutes away from landing on the beach where we will be welcomed by the Durmstrang students. Let me remind you again that Durmstrang is nothing like Udo. Pay attention, be respectful and you might learn something. You will live under their rules as much as is feasible, and join in their classes and culture. They will mainly speak to you in English, although there is a small Asian contingent here, so you might hear your native language. If they murder it, do _not_ laugh for gods’ sake. Duelling is perfectly legal here, and they see it as a way to restore their honour.”

Seungkwan nodded as the professor went on, listening as attentively as he could, but even in a cloak charmed for warmth it was increasingly cold. Minutes later as they stepped onto the cold, dark beach he grimaced at the looming forest close by, boughs heavy with snow and ice. It seemed evil somehow, dark and foreboding as it swallowed the light. As he scanned towards the rest of the bay, he fancied he could make something out deeper inland, but there was a mist forming now, creeping down onto the beach with cloudy fingers.

The protection of the dragon behind them disappeared as she shrank down into her human form, and the wind off the Gulf of Bothnia bit into them with renewed fervour. “I didn’t think it would be this late,” he muttered to Chan behind him, trying to burrow deeper into his cloak. “This is miserable.”

“It’s four in the afternoon,” Jun said behind them. “We’re just so close to the Arctic Circle here that they’re already moving into polar night.”

“Quiet!” Jeonghan called over his shoulder. “They’re already here.”

Seungkwan blinked and turned to stare at Jeonghan. He looked painfully neat and slim and remote in his high-collared cloak, every inch as authoritative as a Head Boy should be, but Seungkwan could spot his tension in the pallor of his cheeks, the way his face looked remote and perfect and controlled. _That’s his Pureblooded face. What is going on?_

The sound that shattered the cold quiet of the beach nearly made him widdle himself at the sound of it - long and cold and belling from a horn he couldn’t see. It was massive, the sound, and it continued on and on, echoing from everywhere in the mist. The sound came again and again, like a mournful dirge, before two staves lit like burning bushes practically five feet from him, revealing two tall boys in dark red standing like monoliths in the dark. 

They didn’t move, they didn’t even blink at them.

The thudding of a drum came, and the two tall boys whirled into action. The staves in their hands spun, struck the beach sand and as they blew over them fire roared up into the heavens. There were faces in that fire, fierce and draconic and sharp, and it coiled in great gouts as twin streams dashed up the hill to find another set of staves. Again and again, until the twin wyrms of fire danced their way towards a great looming building crouched upon the land.

_Holy shit,_ Seungkwan thought giddily. _Holy shit, I don’t know whether I should pee myself or cheer._

“Forward!” Jeonghan shouted as Headmistress Mett walked between the lit and twirling staves without fear. 

The moment they stepped between the streams of fire it seemed the world changed somehow. There was thunder in the air to overwhelm the crash of the waves, birds on either side cawing and shrieking, and without a clue what was going on, Seungkwan got swept up in the music of it. 

It seemed he wandered up and back into history at the same time; he could see longships beyond the boys with the staves, and swallowed at the expense of control it must take to be that quiet and supporting that grand a working of magic at the same time. Deep inside him, located just under his heart, his magical core started to resonate to the beat. He watched, wondering, as a flock of great black birds blotted out the skies; two turned to watch him with beady black eyes, and shrieked as if they knew of his death.

The voice that came was so alien that he almost didn’t register it; only the sensitive thrum of his trained ear heard the baritone timbre of it.

**“Gattir allar,**

**aþr gangi fram,**

**vm scoðaz scyli,**

**vm scygnaz scyli;**

**þviat ouist er at vita,**

**hvar ovinir sitia**

**a fleti fyr!”**

He couldn’t understand the words, but they seemed important somehow, and from the distant wince on Jeonghan’s face they meant something to him, something unique and painful and real.

He couldn’t see who chanted the first stanza, but as they rounded the hump of land that lead down to the beach and pulled up next to the forest he could see the massive structure they were heading towards: round, perfectly so, with fires lit and drakes dancing over it; there were white-faced spirits watching from the highest towers, and the entrance were blocked by three people in red.

The boy in front was the one speaking, he thought; he had a great cloak of black feathers and dark fox fur over his shoulders, half-covering the red of his uniform. Very slim and pale, but his voice boomed like a giant’s as he continued speaking, hands clenched on a staff that looked twisted from a real tree and left a gnarly length. Despite his presence and the rolling chant, he looked distant somehow, and nothing about his fine features gave Seungkwan the idea that he was anything but a human with so much spirit in him he might as well be one himself.

**"Deyr fę,**

**deyia frǫndr,**

**deyr sialfr it sama;**

**ec veit einn**

**at aldri deýr:**

**domr vm dꜹþan hvern."**

The boy finished and thumped the end of the staff into the hard-packed ground at the entrance. The fire around him exploded, extinguished itself, until only the sound of the birds and the winds howling and the terrible cold remained. Melting back, he stepped out of the way of a figure that bulked large behind him.

This boy had broad shoulders - his bearskin cloak struggled to cover them - and a face sculpted by uncaring gods -- blackest black hair, pale features and rose-red lips, a savage fairy tale come to modern life. He opened his mouth and started singing. His voice was deep and cold and filled with iron, driving the blood-beat of the melody on and on as drums picked up from behind him. He could hear female voices here and there, but they were few and far between, weaving a descant above the male bass in fluting, thin voices.

Jeonghan- _hyung_ looked carved from marble as they stopped close before the three, watching with a pallor that worried Seungkwan. He snatched in a deep breath, momentarily distracted from the pageantry of it all, and had just a moment to focus as a third boy stepped forward. 

Where the singing one was a bear and the first one had been more a fox, this one seemed carved from ice instead. Each plane of his face was aristocratic and precisely calculated, and he took up the song as well. Similarly clad in a blood red coat, Seungkwan couldn’t believe he had overlooked the boy: he had skin as pale as snow-capped mountains, and hair as light as a Patronus. The opalescent epaulettes resting on the boy’s shoulders stood out among his peers and winked playfully under the low light which only added to the glacial character of the boy. 

_He’ll be as still as a predator in the woods, and you’ll think him a vampire, Kwannie, but he’s not a vampire, he’s ice. Your Cinderella in the snow, all colour leached from him except his lips, and he’s singing…_

_Holy shit,_ Seungkwan thought queasily as he stared at the third boy. He didn’t understand what the hell he was singing about, but he felt the song tug at his core in great waves of force, and his eyes slammed open as the boy locked eyes with him. There was something threatening there, just for a moment, before everyone fell quiet.

“Welcome to Durmstrang,” the bear-furred boy in the front said, voice very clear. “We, the Tripartite Champions, welcome you to our halls. Heed our warnings, share our heat, strive on our fields. Until _[Disting](https://www.timenomads.com/the-norse-wheel-of-the-year-viking-calendar-holidays/#:~:text=Disting%20or%20Disablot%20\(February%202nd,the%20goddesses%20Frey%20and%20Freya.)_ you are welcome here - pass now into the _Trelleborgen_ and find shelter in its _Langhus_.”

It was Jeonghan that stepped forward - for a moment real, active hatred flashed across the bear-furred boy’s face - before their Head Boy bowed deeply and respectfully. “Have the Beauxbatons contingent arrived yet?”

The atmosphere seemed deep enough to cut before the Durmstrang champion gave a curt nod and a step to the side. “Yes,” he answers Jeonghan shortly before swiftly turning around, cloak whipping in the air. 

Seungkwan felt Soonyoung and Jihoon near him bristle slightly at the cold dismissal of their Head Boy. He was sure that Soonyoung would have said something if Jeonghan did not raise his hand discreetly, a reminder of the seventh year’s threat of lifelong regret if they behaved shamefully at any point in the tournament. To his relief, Soonyoung stood down, and so did Jihoon. 

The remaining two-thirds of the Durmstrang Champions were just as dismissive, turning around so quickly that the sudden whoosh of their cloaks in the midst of the thick silence diffused the tension. Seungkwan, though, soon found himself distracted again, his sight pinned on the boy reminiscent of frost. 

The Durmstrang Champions stood facing the great gate of heavy and weathered black wood; staves posed high above them. With three simultaneous strikes of their staves to the ground, heretofore invisible runes started flickering to life, casting the Trelleborgen gate in a carmine glow. Thunderous rumbling accompanied the dissipation of crimson energy and the wooden gate swung open cumbruously. 

_I’m not prepared,_ Seungkwan thought queasily at the sight. _Holy shit, I’m so not prepared!_

* * *

  
  


Jun watched their own Hogwarts representatives step through the _Trelleborgen_ gate after the three Durmstrang champions; Mingyu and Chan eagerly trailed after the group, a peculiar mix of awe and trepidation painted on their faces. Some steps later, Mingyu turned to Chan and pulled at the younger’s coat; the younger Hufflepuff shuffled closer as the older blatantly pointed at the bear-furred champion. 

Jun shook his head at the antics of the two, wondering what they were gossiping about; he couldn’t help but think that they were marvelling at the wrong thing. Sure, the three Durmstrang champions displayed an impressive amount of magic, but that was to be expected; they were champions after all. Given their talents, he was pretty sure that Jihoon and Soonyoung alone could create an equally majestic showing with the right mood and preparation. 

_The real showstopper that everyone seems to be missing is the Trelleborgen Klockstenen... or can’t they see it?_

“Impressive, isn’t it, Mr. Wen?” Professor Thackery joined him in standing before the opened gate that glowed like embers. 

Jun nodded, eyes unwilling to part from the matrix of magic that was slowly unfolding before him. The Futhark runes and pentimal numbers were being extinguished from the gate one by one, but he saw them evaporate and join the intricate web of magic that cloaked their piece of night sky. “We’re not in Udo anymore, huh?”

“Right you are my boy,” Professor Thackery boomed at him, jovially patting him on the back. It almost made Jun stumble on his feet, and prompted him to move along. “This ain’t Udo anymore.”

“I can feel it,” Jun agreed with a slight shrug. “Professor, have you been here before?”

The professor turned to him with a slight smile and nudged him forward again; Jun walked along obediently. “Just a few times, in my youth, back when their _Jarl_ was more of an isolationist rather than a groveler.”

Jun raised an eyebrow at that. “And now?”

Professor Thackery laughed, more at the confusion evident on his student’s face than the question. “Someone’s not been listening to his World History classes and it shows.” 

Jun chuckled sheepishly, cheeks pinking before shifting his gaze towards the ground. On the earth, unfamiliar symbols appeared backlit, but faint enough not to cast a glow over their path. “It really is a whole different world out here, Professor. I wish I brought a camera to capture all this.”

“Should have brought one, I suppose,” Professor Thackery agreed. “That’s what I was forgetting to pack the whole time, but none of your digital cameras would work here. We’d need a proper magical camera. Suppose I should write to Daesung-ah to express-owl the camera.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We’ll write Professor Ong as soon as we retire from the festivities, hmm? Come on now, Mr. Wen, why don’t we catch up to your classmates? I’m sure that Dumstrang prepared a handsome feast for everyone.”

“Of course, Professor,” Jun agreed. He looked away from all the glittering glyphs around him, wondering how he would manage to sleep with all the foreign magic thrumming and presenting in front of him. None of the books had ever described something close to this, and he had meant what he said, Durmstrang is nothing like Udo. He resolved to take up Professor Thackery’s advice and made mental notes of the things he was going to consult Professor Ong about. 

Jun looked at the champions ahead of him; whilst they all seemed calm and collected on the surface, he knew that they were just as excited as him. He had never said it out loud, but he had been so grateful for the chance to be part of the travelling team. 

He had known what his chances were; he had never been fated to be a Champion for Udo. Soonyoung alone would have given him trouble in the heats, and there was no way he would have been able to scrape a win over Jihoon. And yet here he stood, lucky enough to score an educational trip minus the pressure of upholding their school’s honour. 

He smiled wryly, and slowed down a bit to observe the rest of the Hogwarts contingent. 

_It’s always funny how life works._

Professor Thackery has left his side and joined the Headmistress and Nuwa upfront, clearly unaware of the previous tension between the students. Mingyu and Chan had caught up to Seungkwan and Soonyoung, both walking behind the Ravenclaw champions. Jeonghan… Jeonghan, their illustrious Head Boy with his politicking, pureblood face on, marched stiffly behind the-- _wait, shouldn’t there be three Durmstrang champions?_

“The Welcome Feast at the _Langhus_ does not appreciate stragglers.” 

Jun jumped at the deep bass that sounded off to his right. He turned around and caught the missing third champion, the fox-eyed bard in feathers and fur. The one who recited those frankly intimidating and insightful words; if his rough translation was to be believed, it sounded like a warning for foes and talks about cattle, deaths and deeds. 

From afar, the three champions looked majestic cloaked in deep crimson, but this near, Jun could see the insignia, the medals and the runic circles embroidered on the coat. Up close in his feather and fur regalia, the Durmstrang champion painted a far more impressive vision. 

“I’m sorry,” Jun said with a slight bow of his head when he caught himself staring for far too long. “I will hurry along then.” He shifted but before he could walk away and scurry off to his friends, the Durmstrang bard thumped his stave against the ground. 

“Halt! Walk with me."

“Me?” Jun pointed at himself in confusion. 

“You’re the only one left behind, aren’t you?” The Durmstrang champion responded coolly.

“I guess I am,” Jun replied. He looked ahead and saw his peers even further away from them. “I’m not the only one falling behind though, so shall we? My name is Wen Junhui, by the way.”

The Durmstrang champion nodded his head at him before lifting his arm up as a guide. “Jeon Wonwoo. I will escort you to the feast.”

Jun looked at the arm and then at the boy. It seemed more like an order than an offer of friendship judging by the demeanour of the boy, but he took it in stride. Blessed by the low light of the lamps and lanterns, he looked at the grave looking Jeon Wonwoo and found a little softness in the man's countenance. The Nordic chill crawled up his back which made him accept the offered arm; taking advantage of the extra heat. He gave a polite grin to the Durmstrang boy, walked along with him and amusedly wondered. 

_Who the hell even used the word halt anymore?_

* * *

  
  


_Evening, October 12, The Stone Path to the Langhus_

The trek to the _Langhus_ was just as Jeonghan remembered: cold, dreary and bleak. Although there was a marked improvement in the surroundings like more lamps and lanterns along the stone path leading toward the _Langhus_ , it still didn’t manage to shake off the dense gloom. Behind the hammer-shaped building, he could make out the outline of the eponymous clock tower against the aurora representing the three faculties of Durmstrang. He could never remember which color stood for which kind of magic but at least the orange, green and purple aurora borealis was a welcome reprieve in the darkness of the polar night. 

In front of him walked two of the Durmstrang champions. Choi Seungcheol, known in the duelling circuits as S.Coups, looked very much like the king of Durmstrang as he strode confidently. His entire visage screamed eminence; it was completely different from the contemptuous Seungcheol that left them bitterly two years ago.

_Was he like this with Joshuji earlier? I remember he would freeze up and stutter whenever Shuji was present_ , he recalled with a sad smile directed at his fellow seventh year champion.

On Seungcheol's left, he was flanked by the much younger but still imposing 5th year Champion. If Jeonghan's reconnaissance efforts were to be trusted, this light-coloured boy is none other than the whispered-about Chwe Hansol, who also went by Vernon Chwe apparently. 

Vernon Chwe stood as a polar opposite of Seungcheol in his reflective trimmings and light hair. Jeonghan remembered his father talking about the Chois and the Chwes, how they were families of similar blood but one was always in the shadow of the other; seeing them Jeonghan was unable to tell who stood in whose shadow. Together they led the Hogwarts contingent without a word and nary a worry about their missing third. 

_Odd,_ Jeonghan thought. _Though I suppose they have nothing to worry about since they are within their own turf._

He found his eyes sweeping over Choi Seungcheol once again as they neared the end of the stone path. Underneath those thick, dark curls is a mind he has yet to get a glimpse at. 

_Had I been mistaken before? Was I really using Legilimency back then? I wonder, if I take a look now, will it even feel the same?_ , he thought as he gently nudged a Legilimency probe in Seungcheol’s direction. _Did I really hurt him that badly?_

Unlike before when it had just felt like gut instinct, he could sense a definite mind now, and on the forefront of Seungcheol’s brain laid a vision of steel vaults with a chill of biting air. Jeonghan almost gasped out as he emerged from Seungcheol’s mind; it was like being in the tunnels of _Geum-ui Jib**_ , heavily guarded and unwelcoming. 

Jeonghan tried again for certainty, but this time he didn't even get a warning before he got unceremoniously kicked out. He got thrown out so abruptly that it made him falter in his steps and guaranteed a splitting headache later on. He took a deep breath to collect himself before his teammates got curious, when he felt a heavy gaze settle on his shoulders. He looked up to meet the narrowed brown eyes belonging to Vernon Chwe. 

_"What do you think you're doing?"_ A cool baritone hissed in Jeonghan's head. 

Jeonghan's eyes widened. _That was not Choi Seungcheol's voice. Did Vernon Chwe just speak in my mind?_

He held the boy’s gaze but there was nothing indicative of an answer on the younger's face _._ In the end, Vernon Chwe smirked and about-faced. The second dismissal from the Durmstrang contingent stung far less than the first but it was no less disturbing. Jeonghan watched the two Durmstrang boys continue unperturbed and sighed, wishing that he could feel the same way.

He racked his brain for anything and everything he knew about mental magics. _Whatever that Chwe kid did can't be possible, there's only Legilimency and Occlumency...nothing else._ Of course, Choi Seungcheol being an Occlumens was a real possibility that had never crossed his mind before but one that made so much sense! All the times he attempted reading Seungcheol's mind and failed, it was all because he was a freaking Occlumens. 

Surely, out of all the million magic users in the world, Jeonghan didn’t pretend to be the only one capable of mental magic. He wasn't that arrogant, but this was worrying. There was no way that on top of having an occlumens in the Durmstrang team they would also have someone else capable of something entirely different. _This was just --._

" _Hyung_!" 

Jeonghan was taken out of his anxiety-ridden reverie when Seungkwan pulled up next to him. The 5th year walks up to him with a thoughtful pout which made him slip into his elder brother role. "A won for your thoughts , Seungkwan-ah?"

Seungkwan wrinkled his nose at him. "My thoughts are worth more than a won, I assure you, _hyung_." 

Jeonghan flashes a teasing grin at him. "My apologies, I am sure they are. Got tired of your friends?"

Seungkwan nodded glumly. "Soonyoung and Jihoon are bickering without Jun- _hyung_ to stand between them. Besides, it’s too cold and we've walked so far already!" The ‘They're annoying me’ part was left implied. 

Jeonghan giggled slightly; sometimes he forgot that Seungkwan was still one of the youngest in their contingent. No matter how powerful the Gryffindor was, he was still a boy who was susceptible to bouts of irritability and occasional whinging. 

"I think they've enchanted the path to be a lot longer. It wasn't too bad two years back, or they could have acquired more land," he said with a shrug. "Where is Jun anyway?"

"He hung back," Seungkwan replies simply with a backward wave of his hand. "You know how he is with wards."

"He does have a fascination with them," Jeonghan agreed. "And you, I hardly think you're here just to get away, what brought you here?"

Seungkwan chews on his lips with a hum. "I was just wondering, _hyung_."

"Hmm?" Jeonghan casts him a sidelong glance. 

"Do they only have three champions?" Seungkwan asked, pointing towards the two who were present upfront. 

The 5th year may have asked about the Durmstrang champions in general but one face stood out in Jeonghan's mind. A face that Jeonghan could only imagine to be smirking and turning away from him. He shook his head free of those thoughts and the corner of his lips quirked up. "Yes well, they've always sent just three Champions ever since the tournament restarted. Wasn't it in the guide that I-"

"Yes, _hyung_ , I've read that," Seungkwan cut him off impatiently. 

He arched an eyebrow at the younger and Seungkwan shrinks back a bit. "I was wondering if you knew why they only have three champions."

"Why is the why important to you, Seungkwan?" Jeonghan volleyed back. 

Seungkwan hummed. "You said that Beauxbatons team would be roughly the same size as our team. They're always less than half of their competitors, I would have thought they would change strategies. Plus, the names you had in your intelligence book..." 

_Gotcha,_ Jeonghan thought. "Any name in particular ring a bell?"

Seungkwan stepped away from him only to shift focus towards the man of the hour. _Must have been lured by the Chwe boy already_. 

"Ah, Mr. Chwe," Jeonghan intoned as he drew closer to Seungkwan. "I must have not updated my notes, but do you know that he ranked high in the IDC Qualifiers. He's in the Top10 for the North-Western Europe region."

"Don't tell me, _hyung_ , that he is S.Coups' apprentice?" Seungkwan hissed at him, more out of surprise rather than anger at being kept from such valuable information. 

"Even if he wasn't you should be careful around him, Seungkwan-ah," Jeonghan gently chided. "After all, Durmstrang does not believe in back-ups. They only give you the best of the best, and Durmstrang's best know things we do not know."

"Hyung, what are you saying?"

"Never mind that." Jeonghan inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. "Whatever we do not know, we will make up for it. Just promise me, Seungkwan, that you will be careful."

Seungkwan nodded at him with wide eyes but Jeonghan could see that their talk meant zilch to the 5th year. "Let's just enjoy this walk Seungkwan-ah, it's not everyday you can witness the auroras like this." 

* * *

Chan gritted his jaw with irritation as he wandered after the Durmstrang contingent. He had almost broken his promise to Jeonghan-hyung five minutes into the whole thing; Soonyoung-hyung had a thin set to his eyes and an angry tilt to his mouth and the others ahead of them were very straight-backed, and he was surprised he could hate someone so quickly.

Yoon Jeonghan was an annoying prankster that frequently tormented him, but he was also his big brother and his mentor and no one - _no one_ \- got to insult him like that.

Mingyu’s elbow in his ribs distracted him; when he looked up at their Keeper Mingyu had his sleekest smile on, the one that showed puppy fangs and made people think he was a dumb himbo. “You have that binder still, right? The one with all the info? Is it on you?”

“What? No, it’s in my luggage.” Chan frowned at him. “Why?”

“Because I think that we need to read the Durmstrang section again, don’t you? And pay particular attention to what it says about certain people.” Mingyu leant in close, ignoring the admiring gazes he’s already attracted. “He’s going to fall,” he said, eyes very dark and voice smoky with a power Chan rarely heard before. “He’s going to fall, and he’s going to apologise to Jeonghan- _hyung_ , and we’re going to make sure that that happens. Right?”

Chan’s lips pressed together before he nodded. “They’ll probably let us freshen up a little, I can get it out of the bag then. We’ve got to make it public too, he insulted Jeonghan- _hyung_ in front of the _entire school_ . I… hang on, where is Jun- _hyung_ anyway?” he asked, looking around. “He’s got to be in on this.”

“Dunno, haven’t seen him in a bit.”

Grimacing, Chan made his way to the _Langhus_ steps as the contingent entered. It felt like stepping into a totally different world. Where the walk there had been grim and dark and forbearing, here the place was lit and warm and inviting -- warm enough that he could take his coat off as they were herded inside. He landed at a long table with the others, diametrically opposite a _really_ attractive girl from Beauxbatons; when she smiled at him he had to fight not to blush.

Off at the head of the table, Headmistress Mett stood next to another woman, this one tall and vividly blonde, and as he watched Nuwa went over to their table as well, seating herself as if she wasn’t an absolutely huge ancient dragon on the inside. A bump against his shoulder distracted him a little, and he turned to Mingyu, only to look up as Jun finally made his appearance.

Chan’s mouth fell open.

Somewhere along the line Jun had not only managed to get an escort, but get an impressive one. It was the bird-caped one from earlier; the bard that had recited in the beginning, who solemnly led him by outstretched arm and seated him next to the oldest Durmstrang champion, Choi… Choi whatever-his-name-was with the ugly attitude. Not even the comedic expression on Jun’s face at the whole fanfare could improve his mood much, not when he once again spotted Jeonghan- _hyung_ ’s too-distant expression a bit beyond him.

He leant into Mingyu at his side. “They didn’t give us a chance to… oh.” He blinked at the large silver bowl coming their way from the top of the table, filled with warm water that steamed with some kind of herbal scent.

“It’s custom here,” a soft voice said to him; Chan looked up and stared at the boy that he had been ignoring so far on his other side. Soft-spoken and indubitably as Chinese as Jun- _hyung_ , he was dressed in the most wonderfully tailored robes, and his beauty absolutely outshone the girl that had winked at him earlier. “You wash your hands together in the spirit of kinship. The water will be charmed clean and warm -- look at the runes along the lip of the bowl.”

Chan experienced a moment of acute uncertainty. He was _sure_ that he was straight, as sure as Seungkwan was that he was _not_ , but his stomach still flip-flopped at the boy’s elfin beauty and the soothing grace of his voice. “Um…” He nearly choked on his spit, swallowed hastily, and took the bowl as it came his way, conscientiously dipping and washing his hands. “I’m only up to my second year of Runes, sorry. I mean I can read them separately, but the pattern eludes me. Sorry?” Nervously, hands almost shaking, he passed the bowl to the stranger. “I mean, my apologies. I’m Lee Chan -- well, really Lee Jung Chan, but I just use the former.”

The boy gave a small, high-pitched giggle as he took the bowl, using and passing it along before he bowed his head. “My name is Xu Minghao; a pleasure to meet you. I am, if I understand your curriculum correctly, one year older than yourself.”

“Hey!” Mingyu said loudly, leaning past Chan, one arm on his shoulder but the other hand outstretched towards Minghao. “Yeah, hey, Kim Mingyu here. I’ve heard the name before - you’re the one that just entered the South-East European duelling league, right? You’re kind of famous back home, most of the girls would kill to get your autograph.”

“A pleasure,” Minghao murmured again, before gesturing loosely to the opposite side of the table. “Allow me to introduce Noémie Batteux and Ghyslaine de la Vallière, two of the Beauxbatons champions.”

Mingyu grinned widely across the table at them, giving little finger-hearts. “Ladies. The flowers of Beauxbatons are as beautiful as I’ve heard.”

Amidst the giggles from the girls, Chan cringed. “I’m so sorry for him,” he muttered sotto voce to Minghao. “He’s… really harmless, I promise. Just with a face like that, he’s used to flirting.”

Minghao’s mouth crimped into a little smile. “Don’t worry,” he whispered back very softly, still dignified. “Noémie and Ghyslaine eat boys like him for breakfast.” He paused to unfold a napkin slowly over his lap, making sure the edges lined up precisely. “I see we lost our Jisoo to the other side of the table, or I would have introduced you as well. However, the boy straight across from you is Lee Seokmin.”

Chan looked in the direction indicated and sighed inwardly with relief that the guy wasn’t amazingly handsome like Minghao. Oh, he was good-looking, but in a normal way like Mingyu, albeit with a nose like a swordfish. “Hello,” he said, grinning. “Pleased to meet you. This guy on my right is Kim Mingyu.”

Seokmin’s smile was immediate and huge and warm. “Hi!” he said, voice resonant. “You can call me Seokmin- _hyung_ , ok? I’m so pleased to meet you. Did they sing the hearth-song for you as well when you entered? Wasn’t it magnificent? I can’t wait to try that style myself.”

“Um, I don’t know,” Chan admitted, faintly embarrassed. “I couldn’t understand it, but there were dragons and ravens and it didn’t feel very welcoming, to tell you the truth. The one bard…”

“It wasn’t the same song,” a cold, bass voice interrupted from Seokmin’s other side. “And here we are called _skalds_.”

Chan felt the voice like a kick in the chest, especially when he looked -- it was the guy that had escorted Jun-hyung in, and he looked cold and displeased. _Man, Jeonghan-_ hyung _is going to kill me, I’m already insulting people, but they seem so damn prickly…_ Out loud, fighting not to frown, he dipped his head in the best courtesy he had learnt from his Slytherin mentor. “My apologies.”

The guy hesitated for a moment before he inclined his head a fraction of an inch. “Accepted.”

Thankfully the food appeared immediately after that, born on large wooden platters by more red-robed students, so he didn’t feel too guilty about shutting up and concentrating on his food. One below-table kick later though, he smiled at the small ‘Later’ Mingyu mimed at him.

_Later_ , he promised himself. 

* * *

The silver bowls had long since disappeared down the table before Jihoon mastered the urge to overturn one in Soonyoung’s pretty, annoying face. Instead, cleaned hands crossed on his lap, he glared daggers at the 6th year who, in his opinion, was looking far too amazed as his tiger-slanted eyes darted everywhere and his mouth hung open at the wonders on display. 

_Close your damn mouth, you look far too impressed for a wizard yourself!_ Jihoon wrinkled his nose derisively as he watched Soonyoung take the entirety of the Durmstrang _Langhus_ and its occupants. Under the golden warmth of the floating torches and fragrant oil lamps, Soonyoung sat wide-eyed and completely entranced; with his Gryffindor-inspired cloak almost camouflaging him in the sea of red Durmstrang capes. 

The only way Jihoon didn't lose sight of Soonyoung - apart from the fact that that the boy had stolen the seat next to Jeonghan that he had wanted - was because the entire Durmstrang contingent were mostly taller and of a lighter coloring; Soonyoung had a healthy tan if nothing else.

"Isn't it a bit too early to serve the food?" Seungkwan queried quietly from his right. 

"I don't mind, I'm famished. I'd have rioted if I was made to stand here for so long after that walk, right Jihoon?" Soonyoung answered with a shit-eating grin. 

Jihoon tried his best not to roll his eyes but couldn't quite manage it. "That sounds like a you problem," he muttered under his breath. 

Jeonghan, hyper-aware or just listening in, gave him a sharp glance; their Head Boy turned his whole body around, facing away from the Durmstrang Champion, ready to reprimand.

"I'm not complaining," Seungkwan interrupted whatever Jeonghan was about to say. "I'm just asking. Perhaps they start early as well."

Jeonghan smiled indulgently at the 5th year. "You seem to have a lot of questions tonight, Seungkwan-ah."

"I got a lot to learn," Seungkwan admitted with a shrug as he speared a perfectly grilled sausage off one of the huge silver plates. 

Stomach growling, Jihoon looked at the closest platters. The fare served here was a bit heavy on the meat, fish and bread, but there was no bowl of rice to be found. He thought about asking Jeonghan if asking for food on the table was in bad taste; deciding against it, he grabbed a bowl of porridge instead. He passed it under his nose, sniffing and figuring out how he would season it when it smelt strongly of dairy. After the last time he had tried foreign dairy, he hastily put it down; instead, he grabbed a healthy stack of the dark nutty bread.

Back in Udo, the kitchen staff were accommodating enough to whip up and serve anything as long it was somewhat healthy but here he didn’t know how to ask. They were surrounded by people who looked different, spoke differently, and had a whole other set of customs from them, leaving him unsure of how to act. He saw actual students carrying, passing, floating, and enchanting plates and dishes for the entire commune to share, which amazed him. 

Not even the professors were spared from serving others it seemed; he caught sight of two tall, middle aged men and a younger woman all outfitted in black, fur trimmed capes, grey ensembles underneath, and serious looking combat boots carry trays of food and drinks to the professor's table. 

"It is Durmstrang tradition, isn't it _Stallari_ Choi?" 

Jihoon startled at the dulcet tone right next to his ear and nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw the person that had uttered it. He had seen some beautiful people in his time, but the stranger to his right took that to unfair heights. His features were eerily symmetrical and his skin glowed a subdued ivory-gold; between that and the artfully tumbled blonde locks he looked like a grown Pre-Raphaelite angel that had descended to grace humanity. 

It also did not help that the boy was immaculately dressed in azure robes of fine silk, and sported a gold and powder blue cravat that reminded him of royalty. If Jihoon had not spotted the Beauxbatons pin on the man's lapel, he would have thought that they were blessed with the presence of an actual fae-folk.

It was… it was…

It was absolutely ridiculous; the man was more beautiful than Jeonghan, more mesmerizing than that bard that had escorted Jun in. He was the kind of beautiful that hurt Jihoon’s eyes, and his voice sounded like dark honey to his trained ears.

Jihoon sat there gaping, and didn’t quite know how to start breathing again.

Ironically, it was a hunk of butter clattering down on the rim of his plate that shocked him back into moving; he looked wide-eyed across the table at Soonyoung.

“Oops,” Soonyoung said without a shred of apology, jaw tight. “Eat up, shortie, or you’re going to waste away.”

It felt like an old habit to get irritated at that. This time Jihoon was glad of it, and withheld his glares from his favourite arch-enemy out of gratitude. Besides, Soonyoung’s expression didn’t look too pleasant either, as if something had soured his food. Before Jihoon could even contemplate the sudden change in Soonyoung's wide-eyed disposition, Jun, who sat smack dab in the middle of the Durmstrang champions, cleared his throat.

"What is the Durmstrang tradition?" Jun, ever curious, asked. 

It was the champion in bear fur that was sandwiched between Jun and Jeonghan that answered. 

"The Great Hearth is our home and we treat each other as such," the champion said succinctly. 

Jihoon scoffed internally as he watched the boy go back to his plate of cold cuts and rye bread, clearly unforthcoming as Jun gaped openly, looking genuinely confused at the response. 

_Who wouldn't?_ Jihoon thought. _He could have clarified things better._ He wondered if the guy truly was one of those people who was a man of few words or if he really just truly hated anyone with a Hogwarts badge.

" _Stallari_ Choi," Jihoon's ethereal seatmate addressed the Durmstrang bear. 

_So this was that Choi, Choi Seungcheol._

"Would you mind explaining it a bit more? You have mentioned that dining early and being served is a tradition but I never understood it in reference with the Great Hearth," the Beauxbatons champion explained with a gentle and encouraging smile before facing Jun. "I'm sure, Mr.-- ..."

Jun hastily dropped his fork and wiped his hand on a napkin before offering it for a handshake. "Junhui. Wen Junhui."

Jihoon's eyes flicked to the Durmstrang bard who seemed to be watching the exchange closely. As soon as Jun's hand clasped around the Beauxbaton boy's hand, the Durmstrang bard sat up just a little bit straighter. Jihoon wondered if Jun felt the shift that just happened. _Probably not, considering that Jun himself was entranced._

"Pleasure to meet you. My name is Joshua Hong, but you can also call me Jisoo," he said with a firm shake of Jun's hand and then he turned back to address Choi Seungcheol. "I'm sure Junhui here is also interested to learn more, _Stallari_ Choi."

Jihoon never thought he'd see the Durmstrang champion submit so easily, but wonders never ceased. He watched the posturing Seungcheol soften and lose the tightness in his shoulders. Seungcheol slowly put down his utensils and turned away completely from Jeonghan. The funny thing was, the Durmstrang bear only seemed to face his two other companions, his gaze settling above Jun's head who was sitting directly next to him. 

Jihoon's hold on his bread tightened. _This is the third time he had his back against hyung , and he even had the gall to look past Jun._

"The Great Hearth is our home, and we treat each other as such," Seungcheol repeated, but now his eyes were boring onto the two other Durmstrang champions who seemed to have been pulled into the conversation by the heavy stare alone. "A home weakens under disunity and operates best as one. There could only be discord in a home that separates servants from family as treatment is never equal under those conditions. In our hearth, it is only right to serve each other and take up the mantle of looking after ourselves."

"And the early dinner? Is it just for festivities?" Jeonghan asked; there was a genuine curiosity in his voice, but Jihoon could recognise signs of hesitancy. The whole thing was just bizarre for Jihoon who had never seen Jeonghan act this way since knowing him. "I have always wondered but I never got around to asking you during our last time here, _Stallari_ Choi."

_Stallari_ Choi nodded stiffly in acknowledgement. There was an obvious discomfort that blanketed the Durmstrang champion as soon as the Hogwarts 7th year talked. It was as if Jeonghan's entry into the conversation alone had undone the charm that Hong Jisoo casted on Choi Seungcheol. It was curious.

"Supping early is done so everyone can finish their duties early. We look after ourselves; that means clearing up our own plates, the same way we serve each other," Seungcheol said, facing Jeonghan briefly before focusing on Jisoo again. "Our [Nissers ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nisse_\(folklore\))are not our servants so we help them, but they are considerate. If the meals are not up to your liking, the wights would take your request."

"Ah, that makes a whole lot of sense," Jisoo said with a genial smile. He then turned to Jeonghan, "Doesn't it, Jeonghan-ah?"

Jeonghan smiled gratefully at Jisoo's acknowledgement, while Seungcheol returned to looking inexplicably austere. 

"How do we go about requesting something for our dietary requirements then, _Stallari_ Seungcheol?" Jisoo asked.

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow at the question, the corner of his lips lifted a bit. He leaned in closer to the Beauxbatons boy. Voice full of warmth and playfully light, he teased the beautiful champion. "Is something not to your taste, _Seigneur_ Hong?"

Jisoo chuckled, eyes crinkling delightfully; just like the way Soonyoung's eyes do when he's about to do something that would undoubtedly piss Jihoon off. The only difference was Hong Jisoo's eye-smile is decidedly more innocent and less aggravating. Jeonghan on the other hand, Jihoon noted, had his fists curled tightly around his fork and knife, lips drawn into a thin smile, and eyes focused on the two seventh years.

_Interesting. So, there are things you do keep from me, Jeonghan- hyung ._

"Oh no, Seungcheol-ah," Jisoo returned as he waved his hands in front of him. "You don't need to worry about me. I only mentioned it in case the constitution of my teammates or anybody else on this table can't quite handle the delicacies of the North."

"Alright then, I will make a note of it and relay it to _Jarl_ Thorisdottir or _Thane_ Rosenqvist," Seungcheol promised sweetly, then he turned to Jeonghan, deliberately acknowledging him for the first time during the entire dinner, and said. "Champion Yoon, I am extending this courtesy to your team and yourself as well. Please inform me of any dietary requirements and I will put them forward."

"That is very considerate of you, _Stallari_ Choi," Jeonghan replied with a less than bright smile to which Seungcheol amiably nodded at in return. They went back to their dishes, this time a little more loose and less guarded. The tension that hung over them heavily since their arrival to the Bothnian Bay seemed to palliate over an observation and remark regarding the serving of food and diets. 

He felt in awe of how smoothly Jisoo had diffused the little bit of tension between Seungcheol and Jeonghan. With both Seventh Years acknowledged and included in the conversation, making the atmosphere a little less thick, Jihoon marvelled at how the angelic Beauxbatons champion had successfully and subtly manipulated both Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Jeonghan.

_Wow, this Hong Jisoo is a master of spinning conversations. Jeonghan hyung, you finally found your match in the art of amicable parley. Is he the blue birdie--?_

"Would you like some rice?" the angel asked. Hong Jisoo's honeyed voice accompanied the heavy, silver bowl of pure, white rice that rightfully derailed Jihoon's train of thought.

"Yes please," Jihoon answered with an embarrassed smile; he hoped he didn't look overly eager, but he was hungry, and the rye bread was not going to cut it. He held his hands up in front of him, earnestly waiting for the dish he had been looking for the entire supper. When Jisoo passed it to him with that cherubic grin of his, Jihoon could only think of one thing.

_You have indeed met your match, Jeonghan-hyung._

* * *

With the Feast dying down and chatter slowly descending into murmurs, Jun found himself finishing up his meal and quietly listening to Wonwoo's explanation of the runes carved up in the middle of their table. He had asked the skald when he noticed some of the markings on the table and some of the walls glowing sporadically; not really expecting anything beyond three words as an answer, but Wonwoo was surprisingly accommodating and very insightful. Throughout the meal, the seemingly cold boy had proven himself warm and engaging, although a bit reserved. At least, Wonwoo wasn't as parsimonious with words as the younger Durmstrang Champion, Vernon Chwe, who he sat across from.

Jun was about to share his own experience in vandalism in the name of magic when the deep bellow of a horn reverberated through the entire Great Hearth. He noticed that almost everyone belonging to the visiting teams startled at the sound. The Durmstrang champions in their midst though were nonplussed. Wonwoo, upon hearing the horn, abruptly stopped talking and stowed his utensils away. 

"What's going on?" Jun whispered lowly to Wonwoo, inching closer to the boy, lest he be heard by Seungcheol instead; not wanting a repeat of the earlier awkwardness. He knew too well how asking Stallari Choi would eventually turn out. 

Wonwoo brought up a finger to his lips. "Announcements happen after feasts."

"Ah," Jun nodded slowly. "I guess it's easier to think announcements through when people aren't preoccupied with what to eat."

Wonwoo grinned at that, amusement dancing in his eyes at Jun's theory. "Huh, you might be onto something..."

Jun bit his lip. He could feel his cheeks burn and he was not too sure if it was due to the Durmstrang _skald_ 's slight grin, or the copious amounts of alcohol he drank tonight. 

Udo has never served alcohol with their dinners; _makgeolli_ and _soju_ were smuggled in by the muggleborn and half-blood students and traded sparingly. It was only during Christmas and Seollal that the Udo students could really imbibe on apricot floral wine and hallabong spritz, unlike here in the North where mead and mulled wine were served regularly. Of course he would take advantage of this practice, he was sure he wasn't the only one to do so when he spotted Seungkwan turning just a wee bit pinker than usual. 

_It's the mead. It's definitely the mead,_ he thinks as he brings up his ungloved left hand to his warm face. Turning away from his new found friend, he faced the front of the Hearth where the professors were seated. 

In front stood a tall, robust and outrageously blonde woman. She had an exacting gaze, but a warm smile on her lips. Her chin-length hair was almost hidden underneath a silver-fox fur trapper hat, and her entire coat was covered in repeating wolf runes that gave it a silver glow despite being constructed of black material. 

_Jarl_ Elektra Thorisdottir, the 65th _Jarl_ in the illustrious 726 years of Durmstrang Institute, looked every inch a warrior who was ready to lead her battalion to victory. With a wave of her hand, she unsheathed her wand and it grew in length; it turned into a long, black staff capped off with a silver carving of a head of a fox struck by lightning. She thumped the floor of the Hearth twice and a hush descended.

"All feasts must come to an end," _Jarl_ Elektra started solemnly. "For it is through feasting that we honour, celebrate and hail the people who have come to share the hearth with us. And like our ancestors, the ending of our feasts are the beginnings of our acceptance. Tonight, our humble _Langhus_ have accepted into our fold our esteemed guests for this year's Tripartite Tournament."

The headmistress paused for a bit and looked around. It seemed like she was trying to maintain eye contact with each and every single student. Jun shivered when her gaze fell upon him, feeling too small in the presence of such cloying power. 

"Durmstrang, arise." _Jarl_ Elektra commanded her wards. Jun jolted when Wonwoo, Vernon and Seungcheol stood up around him in perfect synchronicity with the rest of the Durmstrang community. 

With almost all of the occupants of the Great Hearth standing and only the Hogwarts and Beauxbaton contingents left seated, the _Jarl_ smiled with pride blooming on her face. All around them the torches and lamps that illuminated their supper started dimming.

"Let the _Trelleborgen_ protect you, let the _Langhus_ serve as your home, let the Hearth feed you, and let the _Klockstenen_ watch over you."

At Jarl Thorisdottir's final words, she hit the ground with her staff twice and the Durmstrang students and faculty alike raised their wands to the sky. Junhui looked up and gasped softly as all the raised wands wordlessly sent sparks of orange, green and purple to the ceiling which left the hall in waning light. His mouth hung open as he watched pinpricks of red-coloured magic rain down on them. His gaze wandered around taking in the theatricality of it all.

Now, he understood why this was called the Great Hearth. 

In his scrutiny, his eyes found Wonwoo, illuminated by the sparks and specks of magic. And Wonwoo, Wonwoo regarded him with a sincere smile and mouthed at him. 

" _Welcome to Durmstrang."_

  
  


  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * At night, along with a host of other famous constellations, the constellation Draco is visible in the Jeju sky. 
>   * Geum-ui Jib means Golden House, it is the wizarding bank for Korea and it has similarities with Gringotts in United Kingdom. 
>   * After Jarl (Headmistress) Thorisdottir took over Durmstrang, uniforms changed and the culture returned to something closer to old Icelandic. 
>   * Wonwoo’s poem comes from the Havamal. Gattir allar,| All the entrances,  
>  aþr gangi fram, | before you walk forward,  
>  vm scoðaz scyli, | you should look at,  
>  vm scygnaz scyli; | you should spy out;  
>  þviat ouist er at vita, | for you can't know for certain  
>  hvar ovinir sitia | where enemies are sitting,  
>  a fleti fyr!| ahead in the hall Deyr fę, | Cattle die,  
>  deyia frǫndr, | friends die  
>  deyr sialfr it sama; | and the same with you;  
>  ec veit einn | but I know of something  
>  at aldri deýr | that never dies  
>  domr vm dꜹþan hvern. | and that's a dead person's deeds.
> 



	4. INFO : The Durmstrang Institute of Magic

###  ** TRELLEBORGEN KLOCKSTENEN - THE BELL ROCK FORTRESS **

Durmstrang Institute is located in the Northern regions, and it is more like a fortress than a castle. The fortress itself is called the _Trelleborgen Klockstenen_ (The Bell Rock Fortress) although it is different to the Muggle Trelleborgen.

It is located in the spruce forest of Pite-Rönnskär in the Gulf of Bothnia. The _Trelleborgen_ itself borders the coasts of Bothnia. Unlike Hogwarts Udo and Hogwarts Scotland wherein the castle weaves in seamlessly with the local community, the Trelleborgen is completely hidden from Muggles. The legend of _Klockstenen_ wherein villagers believe that a moss covered rock formations turn clockwise with every tolling of the bell is actually the Durmstrang Institute of Magic moving coordinates on an hourly basis to make it unplottable.

The  _Langhus_ of the  _Trelleborgen_ houses the students, the staff and the communal areas. Classes for basic education: reading, history and mathematics are held in the Langhus.

When people hear of the _Trelleborgen_ _ Langhus _ the first time, they might be forgiven for thinking that it’s a rude long structure covered in wattle-and-daub, with hard-packed ground floors and little comfort. That could not be further from the truth. In actual fact it is a massive building constructed of stone and steel-capped Giant Firs hewn into immense square posts by the first Durmstrang teachers. The structure is three floors tall, dwarfed only by the massive Clock Tower in _Stavkirk Mimir_ right behind it; shaped like Tyr’s hammer, it houses three main buildings under its massive structure. 

The main hall is huge and richly decorated with pillars supporting a great arched wooden roof with exposed supports. Through the years, students have carved these in fanciful shapes of surprising delicacy, and there are lamps aplenty to light the furthest reaches of it should the spirit-folk choose to. The carvings are mainly those that remind of Norse legacy: intricate knots and rune-poems and long-bodied, sleek heraldic animals. It is only on closer inspection that some might find the scales on the snakes aren’t scales, but tiny curves of Futhark runes that have the odd habit of glimmering at times. 

The middle portion of the  _ Langhus _ , the Great Hearth, is where most students cluster during the times they are permitted to, given the warmth there from the fires kept burning year round. Indeed, some of the first work that the youngest students do there is to polish the interior woodwork that cover the stone walls up -- the wood is never to get a smidge of soot or ash on it, as a point of pride. Unseen except to those of exceptional senses are the talismans and prized possessions buried around the hearths and doorways for good luck; the  _ Langhus _ has the habit of swallowing things sometimes, and students boast that such have been ‘taken by the Hearth’, and takes it as a matter of pride. Theft, after all, is  _ never _ an issue in the school, and harshly disciplined if the watching spirits complain to the Headmistress.

Down the long middle of the centre the floor is thick terracotta tile over hard-packed ground, much better for boots than the more fragile wooden platforms on either side. The tables are the long, communal style, though the arrangements sometimes change for special events and indeed they can be vanished entirely. Those with sharp eyes might find some tiles that are specially marked as well, inscribed by glyphs that form the shape of learning-poems.

The walls are wood as previously observed, but there are innumerable woven lengths of fabric, tapestries and shields that cover most of the wood up and although it’s a magical school, there are old weapons on the walls too -- those hallowed or magical or ancient enough to be worthy of display. It is also here, above and along the hearths, that the Professors and older students might display their staves if they have been blessed with one by the spirits of the land. The rest of the scant space is taken by furs and other display items; whilst magical handiwork and construction might not be on the syllabus specifically, it is often a hobby and point of pride for students taught to push themselves to the max.

The _Trelleborgen_ has 4 quarters separated,  **Stavkirk Tyr** (Stave Church for Practical Magic), **Stavkirk Mimir** (Stave Church for Theoretical Magic) **, Stavkirk Freyr** (Stave Church for Magical Craftsmanship) , and the  **Myrkvior** (Dark Forest , it’s actually half a field, half a forest, they’re just dramatic norse namers)

The _Langhus_ of the _Trelleborgen_ always faces the Gulf. Past the Myrkvior is a gate that leads to the Bothnia Gulf. The gates are open during Saga Training hours and weekends for when students would like to swimr, or sail. The Myrkvior gate is where the Drekkis (that Dragon ship for transporting Durmstrang students) docks. 

###  **EDUCATIONAL PHILOSOPHY AND STRUCTURE**

**Ensam är stark. Alone is strong.**

The school philosophy is that each student must be able to find success on their own after finishing Durmstrang. There is an emphasis on individual achievements and as such, students are given more freedom in choosing their electives. Among the three European schools, Durmstrang has the most number of course offerings and the heaviest course load for their students. Durmstrang also offers further magical education and as such, are able to open classes for younger students with the help of the university level students.

Militaristic in general, duelling heavy, instead of Defense Against the Dark Arts, they have the subject Magical Combat which is why all Durmstrang students are above average duellists

###  School Years

  1. Herra Years (3 years, ages 8-10) 
  2. Drang Years (7 years, ages 11-18)
  3. Ðegn Years (4 years, Ages 19-22) -

Like Magical University, at this point students can opt to stay in Durmstrang to further their magical education or seek employment elsewhere. The students who stay in their Ðegn Years have the additional responsibility of being the Huskarls for the Drangs who have been initiated to their Stavkirk. 




###  Honors

No sorting systems, but students are decorated in medals to show which field they excel in

  1. **Radningar** \- Awarded to the top 10% of students regardless of Stavkirk
  2. **Aesir** \- Stavkirk specific ranking, top 10% of each Stavkirk
    1. **Tyr** \- Students who show exceptional skill in practical magical arts : Magical Combat, Charms, Transfiguration etc.
    2. **Mimir** \- Students who show exceptional skills in theoretical magical arts : Arithmancy , Runes, Astronomy, Divination etc.
    3. **Freyr** \- Students who show exceptional skills in magical craftsmanship : Potions, Magical Flora, Magical Fauna, Ward Creations, Enchantments.



###  School Culture

  * Instruction is in English, given that most of its population come from different parts of Europe, although students learn to pick up Swedish from their peers and their teachers. It is highly multicultural and while there is a zero-tolerance policy for bullying, students tend to group together based on the languages they speak. The use of translation charms is widespread but students are required to pick up 2 languages apart from English and Old Norse in their Langhus classes. Most students opt for German classes and Latin, but other languages are available upon request.
  * There are no organized school sports in Durmstrang. The classes themselves are demanding and competitive in nature and group sports are seen to take away time. There are interest groups for various wizarding sports though and students can sign up to train if they want to pursue a career in sports.
  * There are no homeworks in Durmstrang with the exception of Langhus subjects. Since Stavkirk classes typically run for over an hour, all essay writing and minor projects are done within class hours. There are daily assessments within class instead of homeworks and professors use this time to check students' work. However, some core subjects have annual projects that have to be submitted for progress checks on a monthly basis. 
  * A typical school day is a minimum of 7 hrs long excluding the mandatory daily saga training, breakfast, lunch and dinner hours. The longest school day is 10 hrs long. Studying for in class assessments, and preparing for core projects are done on weekends and free time.
  * There is a lights off curfew in the Trelleborgen. All the floors of the Trelleborgen are enchanted to illuminate when students are caught sneaking out after curfew. Students have tried flying, levitating, and apparating to sneak out but the Trelleborgen knows and lets the whole school know who sneaked out.
  * Student leaders are called Stallari and are personally selected by the Jarl with advice from the Stavkirk Hersirs, basically prefects for each wing/floor.
  * Celebrations in school follow the Viking calendar
  * Nissers or Good Wights live within the fortress and are given tributes by both staff and students alike. The nissers, in exchange for the tributes and additional protection they get from the fortress wards, take care of agriculture, fishing and housekeeping.
  * Various magical creatures reside outside the fortress.
  * It is a yearly tradition to celebrate Heathen holidays outside the fortress. Typically, students from Drang 5-7 and Thegns would go and offer whatever is called for during the celebrations (baked bread, or sometimes bloodletting), or in the case of Vetrnaetr, Radningars are tasked to hunt non-magical creatures and offered to the forest sprites.



###  **CURRENT SVT MEMBERS**

  * Choi Seungcheol (Drang 7) Radningar, Aesir Tyr, Stavkirk Tyr, Stallari
  * Jeon Wonwoo (Drang 6) Radningar, Aesir Mimir, Stavkirk Mimir Himthiki
  * Chwe Hansol (Drang 5) Radningar, Aesir Tyr, Aesir Freyr, Stavkirk Freyr Himthiki



###  **MOODBOARD**


	5. CHAP: A Rude Awakening

_Late night, Headmistress’ study, 12 October 2020:_

Replete from dinner, the Heads of the three schools made for the Jarl’s study; they had no sooner been seated in the comfortable chairs than Elektra sealing the door behind them, securing the room against intruders and waving her wand at a cabinet to summon a hide-wrapped bottle and three glasses. She poured the transparent liquid, just a finger each, before she flopped down on her chair and groaned as her muscles finally unkinked. “Zacharie, Merit,” she said, lifting her glass. “To your health and a year that looks like it’s going to be a pain in the butt.”

Headmaster Devereaux sniffed the liquid, grimaced at the likely alcohol content and held it up as well. “To your health, Elektra. You’re quite correct. I’ve not seen this much tension between the students unless it’s ball time and the local shops have sold out of material.”

“Your health,” Merit smiled, lifting her glass in toast before throwing it back likewise. “Is Constantin not joining us?”

“No,” Elektra said. “I don’t trust him around your wiles, of course.”

Laughter rocked the room, loud and friendly. “As if,” Zacharie muttered. “But I agree, it does make a good reason for you two to glare daggers at each other out in the open. Does poor Constantin know?”

Elektra snorted. “Constantin’s the one that suggested it. It’s my curse to have such an attractive husband, of course.” She filled glasses again, leant to the side to kick her boots off, and shuffled her feet into the slippers hiding behind her desk. “Now. It looks like we’ve got a few problem children this year beyond the normal animosities. I’m not even going to touch on whatever the hell is going on between Seungcheol and the other two seventh years, but Zacharie, to start with, I’m sure about ninety percent of my poor school is in love with… Hong Jisoo, correct?”

Zacharie widened his chair with an indolent wave of his wand and nodded, conjuring a pair of slippers for himself. “Number two on Witch Weekly’s Wizards to Woo list,” he explained. “We’ve had to start screening his owls. Jisoo himself is a perfect gentleman, and he’s taken pains not to show any interest at school in order to combat the divisiveness and jealousy that would likely start. From his side you will have no problems, I promise. From the other students… well, he is firm, but people also have to accept ‘no thanks.’”

Elektra nodded, expression fierce. “My students will respect a no, or else they will face censure. I imagine both our schools will -- Mett?”

Merit kicked her shoes off and pulled her legs up on the chair, folding her small frame up neatly. “Admittedly most of my students here are more afraid of Jeonghan-ah than myself, probably because they know he’ll hex them stupid if they let down the side,” she muttered. “I am a little worried about how he will fare on Udo though. Let’s discuss him later in the competition again?”

“And the rather strange tension between Monsieur Choi and Monsieur Yoon?” Zacharie questioned. “Is that still from last time? That bears watching.”

Merit sighed and drained her glass. “We had an inquiry afterwards, of course, when the allegations started. It was proven that it was tournament stress that raised his dormant talent for Legilimency to fully active; he’s been taking lessons from myself in both the power and the etiquette of it, but… Elektra, you have a mind magics class here?”

“Yes,” Elektra confirmed. “Gaspar Germanovich runs it.”

“I’d like to see him in it, if possible,” Merit requested. “It would do the young man good to see someone trained for such teachings.”

Elektra nodded. “With the way the cookie crumbled the last time, it might be a good idea. If we lose again because he read our strategies, it will not go well.”

Zacharie grumbled. “We all have our problem children, I’m sure. Speaking of mine… I would like if Seokmin could take lessons with your vocalists whilst he’s here, Elektra, especially if you have some of the old hearth-singers close? The poor boy is never going to be driven to be the best student, but already his vocal talent is deep and profound.”

“I heard him singing last March at the conservatory,” Merit said softly. “That boy has the gentlest soul I know, and the most glorious voice.” She gave Zacharie a sidelong stare. “And you knew that when you sniped him from us, you cad.”

“Give over, Mett,” he said. “We were the best place for him, you know that.”

Elektra smirked happily at the mutual eye-rolling and leant to scribble in a planner. “I’ll make a note. Perhaps Sigrid will know -- she’s much in touch with the older magics, you know. And speaking of older magics, Mett, that boy of yours, the one that got detained at the gate? My Wights all want to meet him, they say he’s got the Old Eyes. Not that I know what that means.”

“Jun?” Mett hazarded, leaning forward to help herself to more of the alcohol. “Wen Junhui? It might well be. In the muggle world they call it spatial sequence synaesthesia -- he sees numbers as points in space almost. He once told me it was like moving through a world of numbers underpinned to waves of magic. He’s a lovely boy though, very mischievous, but with a good heart. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, it’s not a curse or anything like that, thankfully.”

Zacharie laughed into his glass. “The young man that came in on the arm of your _skald_ , Elektra?”

“The very one. I’ve never seen Wonwoo willingly touch another person before, except in combat training. It was quite the shock.”

“Listen,” Merit rebutted. “When you have the Houseketeers in your school, _then_ we can talk about shock. Speaking of, I’ve told all of them that there will be no messing about whilst we’re here, Elektra. Punish them as you would your kids. They’re hyperactive little shits, especially Kwon Soonyoung. His mother once told me she didn’t know she’d be proud _and_ aghast until he came along.”

Elektra smiled at her. “I’ll toss them to Seungcheol. He’ll run them around until their tails fall off, I promise you.”

“Mine too,” Zacharie sighed. “As it is, I’ve already had Minghao come to me and ask whether he’d be allowed to run here.”

“Of course?” Elektra frowned. “I can’t see why not. In fact, I’ll get Seungcheol to form a special group during saga training for them -- I had thought that we’d have to go slower on your students there, but if they can handle the constant physical training we certainly won’t stint.”

Silence reigned for a moment as the three let that sink in; the room was filled with the popping of burning wood for a few moments. 

“I’m worried about two of mine,” Merit said at length. “Elektra, can you haul out the red wine for us? I’m going to need something substantial for this.”

Elektra blinked but nodded, waving her wand at her alcohol cabinet. Three cut-crystal goblets came flying out, along with a dusty bottle. “This is the last of my Venetian stock,” she warned Merit. “This had better be good.”

Merit waited until she had a goblet in hand before she sighed and nodded. “I don’t know where to look anymore for my first kid,” she admitted. “Lee Jihoon. We’ve looked everywhere for a cure and the boy is slowly working himself to death. Even Yuan, when they accepted the boy as their apprentice, thought they could do something and so far have been baffled. They admitted to me the curse is far more stubborn than they had considered it to be.”

Zacharie almost choked on the wine, turning to her with eyebrows lifted. “Yuan? You have Xu Yuan teaching at your school? What the hell, Merit?”

Merit clicked her tongue. “No, they’re not teaching at my school. They have an apprentice there, singular. Jihoon-ah. There is no one else in my school with either the drive or the intelligence to take on Alchemy except perhaps… well, we’ll come to him. But no, they are _not_ teaching at my school.”

“Minghao is going to be conflicted, I’m afraid,” Zacharie said. “There’s a family connection, I believe. Understandably he can’t talk out much, you know what the Chinese magicals are like. You mention a curse though, what kind of curse?”

“Ohhh,” Elektra said softly. “This is your little Maledictus, right? I saw him at dinner, I think -- as short as some of my Herra boys, and very slim? The one that ate as if eating was a superpower.”

“Yes,” Merit admitted softly. “He’s a Maledictus. We don’t know the precise nature of the curse, that’s been lost to time, but his mother died very young as well, and he’s barely a year or two away from the full maturation of his core, so I’m afraid. And yes, he eats a lot, Yuan has managed to craft a concoction that will convert the extra food he imbibes directly into energy for the curse to eat, but even so his core is… well, it’s vulnerable. _He_ is vulnerable, and intelligent, and very much afraid and I… and no, he can’t eat enough food to overpower his core or others, he’s constantly running at a deficit!”

Zacharie shook his head and reached to pet her arm. “Hush, Mett, we weren’t thinking anything like that. Of course you want to see your little lamb hale and hearty.”

Elektra nodded. “Of course, I’ll ask our Wights to provide something for him whenever necessary -- are there some things we should stay away from?”

Merit reached to scrub at one eye, clearing it of the moisture that wanted to grow in them. “Rice,” she said immediately. “He has a very delicate stomach, so it’s best to keep it as plain as possible. Rice, bread, nothing too spicy. He should stay away from dairy as much as possible. And if you could possibly speak to your staff and let them know he might pass out in classes, and in physical training?” She paused, inhaling. “Elektra… I would like formal permission to speak to the Ravens on his behalf.”

Elektra sucked in her breath. “Mett, honey, that’s… you don’t know what you’re asking. The Ravens are the oldest coven we have here and they’re ruthless, they’re above black and white and even grey…”

Zacharie frowned, interrupting. “They’re Dark?”

Elektra grimaced. “Not as such,” she muttered. “The crones that run it, they just have differing ideas how magic works. They barely allowed me to take Sigrid to teach here, and in all my time here I’ve not seen one. It’s rumoured that it’s one of the reasons the school was so weak here a couple of decades ago -- Karkaroff was such a toady they promised to skin him alive if they ever came across him, which was likely why he scurried to Britain for power.” She took a large sip of wine. “Blood magic, Zacharie. They deal in Blood magics.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t at my wits’ end,” Merit said. “Yuan is at his end with regards to an alchemical approach, Nuwa said it was so deep in his being she couldn’t lift it, and Jihoon himself has not been able to find a potion, even though he’s a better potioneer than I am.” She paused. “You know that potion that came on the market a year or so ago, the one you used to regrow the eye you lost in that duel with the Moroccan, Zacharie?”

He blinked and nodded, reaching up to his rest. “I do? Wonderful work, that -- not only did it totally regrow the eye itself, but the Healer assured me the nerve-work it did was medical genius.”

“Lee Jihoon created that potion,” Merit said softly. “That’s the level of genius we stand to lose. _Please_ , Elektra. I wouldn’t ask unless it wasn’t absolutely the end of my rope.”

“ _Quelle domme_ ,” Zacharie swore softly. “I’ll reach out with all I have, I promise. We at Beauxbatons are close to the Beast races, perhaps there is an answer there. Elektra?”

Elektra, paling, took another sip, draining her glass, before she filled it again. “I will ask Sigrid to make the request,” she said reluctantly. “But she will have to speak to the boy herself. They will not trust my word. In the meantime, I’ll put him in the Healing classes with Marcus. He’ll do what he can as well, I promise.” She pulled a face. “You have another problem such as this? I’m wondering how your school stands still.”

Merit helped herself to another glass. “I’m surprised as well. And no, not the same, but different. You both follow the duelling circuits, correct?” she asked, and sighed at their nods. “More so than myself, I guess. You must have heard about the upset this year at the South-East Asian Junior Qualifiers?”

Zacharie blinked. “Of course!” he said, slapping his forehead, and reached for his glass to consider Merit through the ruby-red liquid. “Boo Seungkwan is in your school, I should have known.” He looked at Elektra, who looked a bit mystified. “The boy they called Dark merely because he had a non-standard wand,” he clarified. “Lovely kid, there was considerable conversation back home whether it was legal or not. A friend of mine still believes the Japanese made the wrong call there.”

Elektra frowned. “I’ve been so busy getting ready here I’m behind on the news. What happened?”

“Politics,” Zacharie said contemptuously. “I live and breathe it, of course, in France you do nothing else, but in this case it was contemptible. The _honourable_ team from New Zealand decided to object to his wand and raised a huge furore. They forced the poor boy to combat with a secondary wand, not his primary -- oh, he still won, but he splintered… three secondary wands, was it, Mett?”

“Four,” Merit correctly. “And the biggest issue is that between that and his family’s subsequent drama, he went through so much trauma I’m honestly surprised he didn’t somehow collapse. I…” She paused, took a breath and raised her chin. “I’m telling you this under the secrecy we all swore to as members of the Order of the Emerald Tablet.”

“Mett,” Elektra said. “I don’t have the heart for too many more shocks tonight. Of course, on the secrecy we swore to as brothers and sisters of knowledge.”

“You have my word,” Zacharie said. 

Merit nodded and reached for her wand. “You’re familiar with Core Chrometry?” she asked, and flicked her wand when they nodded. “This is the latest image we have of Seungkwan’s core, taken at medical checkups just before we left to come here.” With a flick of her wand an image appeared in the air between them: one large structure that showed remarkable torsion around the vertical, until it looked more like an egg timer on its side than a sphere. Cracks showed everywhere around the outside, and the interior was filled with a dense, intense glimmering of golden specks.

“Freya have mercy,” Elektra said, bug-eyed. “Zacharie, you’re more into these lines of research than I am, is that as big as it looks?”

Zacharie shot Merit a razor-sharp look. “Zoomed in?” he asked, and swore when she shook her head. “It’s larger than Monsieur Chwe’s core that once you showed me, and it’s highly anomalous - he's fifteen, yes? His core should have settled already, to make ready for the last growth at full magical maturity. This looks like a baby’s core, and it’s splitting in two? It’s so fractured… highly dense of course, I’d love to get him thoroughly tested by my specialists...”

“I spoke to his mother,” Merit added. “She’s non-magical, but she confirmed that her doctor speculated she was having twins. When they looked again, it was only Seungkwan there. Unfortunately she didn’t receive a properly trained Healer’s checkup at all during her pregnancy.”

“You think that we’re dealing with one boy having two cores?” Elektra speculated. “That he somehow absorbed the other babe and the core? I thought that was impossible.”

“No, no,” Zacharie said immediately, nose almost in the illusion. “Soul harmonics would not allow that, we’ve studied that intensively. In all cases the second core went away because it resonates at a different frequency. It’s rejected by the surviving infant. No, what you have here is a bifurcation. You said the boy was under stress?”

Merit nodded. “He is caught between trying to appease the Jeju Boos and hating them for the way they treat his mother,” she explained. “And then that whole unpleasantness at the Qualifiers.”

Elektra leant forward. “Wait, he’s from those Boos? I thought those bastards were long dead -- I remember a conversation I once had with Boo Jongsik. The greatest blood purist I’ve ever met, save some of those Death Eaters come calling after Karkaroff’s things. Isn’t there a sister too? I met her at the ICWs, she does something hush-hush… Jin-ae or something?”

Zacharie frowned at the illusion, using his wand to rotate it. “Mett,” he said at long hand. “How is this boy not blowing up every wand?”

Merit took a deep breath. “Yes, Jin-ae’s his oldest sister. And… well, it’s not my story to tell but it comes down to why they claimed his wand was Dark -- he’s got a Nundu core.”

“What?” Elektra exploded, eyes angry. “A Nundu core? I’ve never even heard of that! What the hell? How the fuck did you find someone to even make that wand? Gregorovitch wouldn’t touch that, and I highly doubt Ollivander would, or what’s that Japanese guy… Takara something? What the hell, Mett? Why did you even bring him here?”

Merit’s jaw tightened. “I don’t _know_ ,” she repeated. “His sister arrived with the wand and him at my place the day he hit eleven, and all I know is that he’s somehow blood-bonded to the core inside. We’ve tried to get him to use others, but they blow up!”

Zacharie straightened. “Elektra,” he said firmly. “Mett. Stow your tits, you two. You’re intellectuals, act like it. Elektra, if the boy hasn’t blown up Udo so far it’s not likely he’s going to blow up Durmstrang of all places. Don’t you pride yourself on teaching rigorous self-control here? Mett, you should have told us, or at least have squeezed the sister for more information. What’s the outside jacket?”

“Sweet oak,” Mett replied promptly. “I’ve never seen such a strong, temperamental wood. And I’m sorry, Elektra, but I didn’t want to risk others overhearing, and in this case Zacharie is correct, Durmstrang has a reputation for its graduates mastering themselves and their impulses totally. Boo Seungkwan is _not_ a danger to you. He’s responsible and caring and more likely to nag you into taking all your vitamins and washing behind your ears than blowing people up. He’s the best I had and as much as I wanted to leave him at home, I felt it would be the final blow if I didn’t select him. I didn’t… didn’t want to risk seeing if such a grown child can contract Obscurus.”

Elektra glared at Mett and took the remains of the bottle of red wine, swigging it straight from the bottle. “Shut up,” she muttered. “It’s a good thing we’re friends.”

Zacharie snorted. “It’s a good thing you lured Constantin away,” he said snarkily, finally waving the illusion away. “If there’s anyone that can instill control, it’d be him.”

“Oh my god give me a rest,” Elektra snapped. “You know why. You never complain about Vincent this way, you duel-head.”

“Elektra,” Merit said quietly. “Please. I know it’s within your rights to kick him out but give him a chance.”

“I’ll work him ragged,” Elektra said direly. “I won’t be nice, but I’m not kicking him out. What kind of a person do you think I am? No, you were right as much as I hate to admit it. I’ll ask Hansol to take him under his wing. They’re the same age and Hansol’s the strongest I’ve got, if not the craftiest. In return I want a favour though. That pretty boy… Mingyu? I want him to train. Pythia’s made a formal request that he join her classes already.”

Merit blinked and began to laugh, eventually howling with it. “Deal!” she croaked out. “You have a deal.”

“And,” Elektra said, expression serious. “And you allow me to have a conversation with Yoon Jeonghan about privacy. It’s good you mentioned the mind magic classes -- there’s already been a report.” She lifted a finger when Merit drew in breath. “And don’t apologise for him. I know you teach better manners than that. I’ll allow that it was the stress of seeing Seungcheol again.

“And I’ll write to my researchers at home,” Zacharie promised. “The ones I trust at least, and I will require a magical oath from them, Merit. And no, before you two harpies ask, I don’t have any problematic students here beyond Mademoiselle Ghyslaine’s truly enormous wardrobe. Mine are all angels. Products of the Beauxbatons method, of course.” He grinned like a shark.

Merit scoffed, but she looked happy as well. “On that note, I’m going to go to bed. Elektra, I give you leave to boast to him about how quickly Constantin said yes to you. See you in the morning.”

Elektra smiled as Zacharie stood, and stood herself. “I’m kicking this goat out and going to bed as well. Night, Mett. Good _night_ Zacharie. I’m going to go and snuggle.”

“Disgusting,” Zacharie pronounced as he emptied his glass. “Such a boastful woman. Good night Mett, good night Elektra.”

* * *

_ Just after midnight, Houseketeers Room, Langhus, October 14 _

The fire in the small room burned low, long since gone to coals, but the sturdy construction of the room kept the heat in and made sure the four students bunking in the room remained warm. There had been furious rounds of kai-bai-bo earlier that night to select the top bunks of the bunk-beds, and the Houseketeers had gotten the little four-man room to themselves by some miracle of the draw, with Soonyoung and Chan winning the coveted top bunks. 

Since then they had happily gone to sleep, tired from the long day, but with pillow-alarms counting down, and The Book beneath Chan’s pillow. 

Seconds counted off slowly, with only the odd snore filling the place, until the four boys woke up from their pillows vibrating.

For a moment only confused snorts and coughs filled the dark air, before Soonyoung spoke up. “Revenge,” he said softly. “Houseketeers, arise!”

Mingyu coughed around a tickle in his throat. “I’m not arising,” he said flatly. “I’m comfortable. We can talk like this.” He pondered a moment, then thrust up a leg to kick the bottom of a still-grumbling Chan’s bunk. “Don’t you dare go to sleep.”

Soonyoung’s face reflected in the light he coaxed from his wand, and he leant down to shine the illumination. “Jun-ah?” he said. “You awake down there or dreaming of ward schemes again?”

The dark lump on Jun’s bed lifted one hand to flip him the bird. “Fuck off,” he said simply. 

“Language,” Chan said in an eerie mimicry of Seungkwan. “Hundred won into the swear jar, my good man!”

The room stilled before it rocked with laughter, and the four boys eventually sat up straight -- as straight as Mingyu could under Chan’s bunk in any way. 

“Okay,” Jun said as the laughter stopped. “Soonyoung, you called for the meeting. Out with it.”

Soonyoung tugged his blanket up around his shoulders, then clambered down like a spider monkey to curl up next to Jun. “Jeonghan- _hyung_ was insulted last night,” he said. “Publicly in front of everyone. The Durmstrang champion didn’t even _look_ at him unless it was to glare. It continued all through the meal. I’m not sure what’s going on, but it’s like he practically pissed hatred all over _hyung_ ’s feet. Jun-ah, you weren’t there during the trek, but you saw how bad it was during dinner. I'm sure with the way Jihoonie absorbed every little detail of Jeonghan-hyung's interaction that he drew the same conclusion as I did.”

“It happened to _hyung_ during dinner too?” Chan asked stolidly. “Our side of the table were mostly the younger students apart from Seungkwan-hyung. The Beauxbatons people were nice and friendly, especially Seokmin-hyung, but whenever I spoke to someone from Durmstrang they practically barked at me. I was half-afraid that one that escorted Jun-hyung in would hit me with his staff.”

Jun frowned at them in the glimmer-light. “Wonwoo? He was polite to me, even if his offer to escort me was more an order than an offer. As for _Stallari_ Choi though...”

Mingyu reached up to tug on one of Chan’s ankles to persuade him to come cuddle. “Don’t even get me started on the one I sat next to -- Vernon something? I don’t know. I tried to talk but all he said was ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you’ at food, and he kept looking away from me to his other side.”

“Can’t blame him,” Soonyoung said. “Did you see that hottie he sat next to? I thought Jihoonie would curl up and die, and the guy leched on and on and passed him rice and more food and just made himself obnoxious.”

Chan scrambled down, bringing the book and his blanket, and slipped close enough to Mingyu for a one-armed hug. “Hyung, Jihoon-hyung was probably just surprised that you weren’t still poking at him. I think that was Hong Jisoo, Minghao-hyung said something about him being ‘very attractive’ and I thought I was already going to swallow my tongue at what he looked like.”

“Listen,” Soonyoung began. “I…”

Jun cleared his throat. “That’s enough out of both of you,” he said quellingly with his Prefect voice. “The guy from Beauxbatons doesn’t matter. I sat next to _Stallari_ Choi myself and I can agree that we need to get some payback for Jeonghan-hyung’s honour. Once or twice during dinner he even ignored _hyung_ and I had to pass the food.”

“And I saw Jeonghan- _hyung_ afterwards, he looked so grey and listless, like he was at the end of his rope,” Mingyu affirmed. “So I’m agreeing too. We can’t let this rest until he apologises to Jeonghan- _hyung_ .” His voice hardened a bit. “Publicly. I won’t settle for anything less. Jeonghan- _hyung_ might be a bit of a bastard and he takes a lot of points off us, but he’s been there for me since we arrived, and the school we’re in today is as much his creation as the teachers’.”

“True,” Soonyoung said softly. “I know it’s against the rules anyway, but that’s never stopped the other students from calling me names in my first year because I’m Muggleborn. Until the entirety of Slytherin stopped, remember? I still don’t know what happened, but I _know_ he had something to do with it. And he takes care of Jihoonie and Seungkwanie when they won’t let me do it.”

“And me,” Chan said, embarrassed but intent. “He teases too much, but he takes care of me.” 

Jun sighed softly. “And me. It’s not like I’m disabled, but sometimes I just can’t get things, and he’s always been protective of all of us students that need a little extra help.”

“So we’re agreed?” Chan asked, opening the book. “I’m in.”

Jun nodded. “I’m in.”

“I’m in”, Soonyoung echoed.

“I’m in too,” Mingyu said. “Channie, what does the book say?”

Chan let his wand illuminate the pages, frowning down at them. “Remarkably not much. His name is Choi Seungcheol, he’s a pureblood - that we know as well. Extremely good with duelling, very powerful -- says here his wand is elder and…”

Jun leant forward. “Wait, what? That’s wrong. I saw it in his wrist sheath at the table. It’s ebony. A new wand perhaps? We can’t trust the core information either, then. Any specialties?”

Chan stopped, frowned again and scanned a little down. “It says here he displayed remarkable prowess at duelling and transformation magics. I think we’re going to be in classes here, so perhaps you can see if that’s true in transfiguration classes? You know, there’s a lot of weird stuff written down here too, I wonder who compiled this for Jeonghan-hyung. It says here that he’s touchy about family, and that he has no mental defenses to speak of, and that he’s easy to manipulate?”

Soonyoung leant forward to rest his chin on one knee. “I dunno,” he said. “Is this information from the last time, or has he maybe changed since then? I think we should take everything in there with a grain of salt. We’ll probably have to spy a little but to see what he’s really like.”

“Channie,” Mingyu said. “They might disregard you since you’re only a fourth year. I don’t know in which classes you’ll be in, but maybe the younger kids might say things the older ones won’t? You should keep your ears open. I know you’re our Beater, but see if you can play Seeker a bit. I’ll sniff around as well.”

“We should see if we can sneak out in any case,” Soonyoung said. “They don’t have the older students here in their main building, you dorm outside in the others. And it’d be good to see if we can get to see them duelling as well.”

“It’s better if we sneak out later,” Jun opined. “Let’s fit in for a while and do it when they won’t expect. Perhaps after the first task? Soonyoungie, are you taking that one, or Jihoon-ah?”

Soonyoung wrinkled his nose. “I’ve tentatively taken Charms and Transfigurations,” he admitted. "I wish we could get one of our Transfiguration Twins in, you two would knock them dead. Jihoonie will definitely have to deal with Potions and Herbology, he’s much better there. For the last… well, it will depend on how he’s doing. If he’s still off, I’ll take it.”

Chan leant a little forward to smile at him in the dim light coming off the banked coals. “I’ll sit with you and we’ll go over things, _hyung_ ,” he offered. “Teachers aren’t allowed to help, I think, but it doesn’t say anything about students, and I don’t know how much of the library around here you can read.”

“I can cast a translation spell,” Soonyoung muttered, pouting. “I’m not that bad at Charms.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know if they allow them on their books here,” Chan pointed out. “Let’s check first.”

“Second topic,” Mingyu said. “They apparently have physical training here all the time. We need to crush that. We’re freaking quidditch players, and in the fitness club, and the swimming club and…”

“You know,” Jun drawled, “I really hate being the voice of reason, you know I do, but some reconnaissance _would_ be good. Let’s take it carefully at least tomorrow, see how things go, and then we’ll convene again tomorrow night? I want to crush these bastards as much as you do, but you know what Archer- _hyung_ taught us before he left the team last year.”

“No plan survives contact with the enemy,” all of them chorused, even Soonyoung, and they folded their hands together and bent in a seated bow.

“Respect to him, may he hack it in the real world as well,” Soonyoung muttered. “Okay. Tomorrow? I’m going back to sleep then. Make space, Junnie, scoot over.”

The room fell silent again, barring the occasional scuffle, and soon sleep rule the order of the day again.

* * *

_4AM, 14 October 2020, Saga training, Myrkvior:_

Seungkwan woke from the feel of his pillow alarm going off and yawned mightily, jaw cracking to release tension. Yesterday had been a strange day, and his sleep hadn’t been too restless and…

… and holy _hell_ the floor was cold.

He shivered, shocked awake, and scooted towards the pile of clothes and the little en-suite bathroom as quickly as he could, finding the light switch in there by luck more than memory. As upper years, Jeonghan-hyung and Jihoon-hyung could sleep in at least an hour more to do their training later during the day, but for some reason their equivalent of fifth years had to be _up before dawn_. He had pouted horribly yesterday, since he wasn’t a morning person, but the thought of shaming Headmistress Mett by being a slug pained him even more.

He didn’t shower yet, that could come later. Instead he brushed his teeth first, then performed the cleaning charm on them - just in case - and fumbled open his little poodle-marked vitamin case, swallowing the lot with a handful of tepid water. All the dark spots got a quick wash before he hopped into his workout gear, long Muggle thermal layers beneath a workout outfit. Finally, doing the best he could with a quick facial wash, he tamed his hair, went to shake Youngho awake and hoped like hell his face didn’t look as bloated as he felt.

He cautiously slipped out and made his way to the Great Hearth again, unsure where they were supposed to meet. Channie came trailing in moments later, then Youngho and Mingyu, and just when he got antsy Beauxbatons’ Xu Minghao joined them as well, along with a girl he had been introduced to last night as Noémie… Noémie _something_. In all frankness, he had been staring too much at Xu Minghao’s skin and wondering what his secret was to pay much attention.

Seconds later, the door to the outside opened and released a gust of cold wind through it before the boy made of ice shut it quickly.

“Good morning,” Vernon Chwe said quietly. “Are you all ready? We’ll go for a run around Myrkvior, then come back here for calisthenics to stretch and finish up. I’ve made sure that the path through the forest is charmed clear since you’re new here.”

“How long is the run, please?” Noémie asked. “And are there animals we should watch out for?”

Vernon shook his head. “The forest-wights will make sure that we have a safe path to run on. Do not deviate. The course isn’t long, just one Swedish _mil_.”

Seungkwan swallowed and looked around him, catching Youngho’s eye. Everyone else on the team was used to being relentlessly physical that he could see. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to make a mile. “Two kilometers, right?” he whispered to Youngho. “I can’t remember the conversion.”

“One point six,” Youngho whispered back.

“It’s not one mile,” Vernonl stated coolly, clearly overhearing. “The Swedish _mil_ is ten kilometres metric standard. If you can’t make that, you will try for the closest you can. By the end of the week you will be running it. I will have your schedules for you after calisthenics. Does anyone here not have a wand sheath for their arm?”

Seungkwan gaped at him. “What?” he asked, outraged. “Ten kilos? You’re making us run ten kilos on the first day? That’s outrageous, that’s…” He faltered under the narrow look Vernon Chwe gave him. “What?”

Vernon took out his wand and flicked it once, mumbling a spell underneath his breath. “ _You_ will run with these today. If you complain less tomorrow, I might take them off.” Another whispered word, and anklets appeared, locking around Seungkwan’s legs just above his running shoes. “One kilo each. Tomorrow, if you complain again, they become two each. I’ll double them every time you complain. You’re at Durmstrang now, act like it.”

Baffled and insulted, Seungkwan couldn’t think of what to say -- the weights didn’t feel like anything now, but he dreaded what they would feel like after ten kilometres. Instead, he merely nodded as shortly as he could, swearing to himself that he wouldn’t cry, and set his jaw tightly. At the moment the embarrassment weighed heavier than the weights, but that wouldn’t last, even with the way Mingyu made him exercise at school.

“Partner up and let’s get going!” Hansol called. “Not someone from your school, the others are waiting outside for us.”

Seungkwan was saved the indignity of asking by a hand that settled just under his elbow. “Come on,” Xu Minghao said. “I’ll run with you, I do it at school as well. I’ll teach you how to breathe, alright? It’ll be fine.”

As they left, Seungkwan speculated that a stranger’s kindness might just break him the first day after all. Grimly intent, he nodded to Minghao and left the comfort of the _Langhus._

* * *

_ 5:30am, 14 October 2020, continued: _

“Jeonghan- _hyung_ ,” a voice came, and a hand shook at his shoulder. “Jeonghan- _hyung_ , I need you to wake up and sit on Jihoon- _hyung_.”

Jeonghan jerked awake, feeling groggy, and had to blink twice when he managed to screw his eyes open. “...Youngho,” he muttered. “What?”

“ _Hyung_ , get up,” Youngho tried again. “Just wake up and come and sit on him, okay? Just get up.”

Jeonghan felt an obscure sense of dread -- the _Langhus_ wasn’t as welcoming as he remembered -- and nodded, scrambling out of bed with haystack hair. He followed Youngho-ya out into the little common room, where Mingyu-yah was indeed sitting on Jihoon-ah’s one leg to stop him from moving. Seungkwan…

Come to think of it, Seungkwan looked _dreadful_ , eyes hot and red and filled with tears _._ “What’s going on here?” he asked sharply. “Jihoon-ah? Seungkwan-ah?”

Jihoon tried to flail free. “That bastard was picking on Seungkwanie, I’m going to fucking kill that little shit, just let me go ok? Mingyu-ya, just get off _hyung_ ’s leg, I’ll go and sort this all out. Trust _hyung_ , okay?”

Jeonghan, staring, couldn’t quite click for a moment. He had rarely seen Jihoon so fired up, and neither of them were being coherent and… “Mingyu-ya,” he reproached. “Get up off him and sit down on a chair before you sprain something. Jihoon-ah, Seungkwan-ah, you do the same. Youngho-ya, start talking… no! Sit down, Lee Jihoon!”

‘Lee Jihoon’ stopped mid-rush to the door as Seungkwan stood, but glared at him and went to sit next to Seungkwan, one arm over his shoulders.

“You,” Jeonghan said crankily to Youngho. “Start talking. Give me the Cliff’s Notes.” He flopped down on a couch.

Youngho grimaced. “It was the saga training,” he said. “Seungkwan-ah made a remark that ten kilos is too much for first-time runners, and the guy running the class said that in that case he’ll run with weights on, and he’s going to double them every time Seungkwan-ah complained. We were running in pairs and I barely made the two-kilo mark before my partner - the girl from Beauxbatons, Noémie? - stopped and I nearly collapsed myself. Seungkwan-ah was running with the other guy, Xu Minghao, and even with him helping him, he didn’t make it much further and got sick. And the guys and girls that came past, they made some comments.”

_Shit,_ Jeonghan thought wearily. _No wonder Jihoonie’s nuclear._ He spared a look at his watch and grimaced. “Okay, we don’t have much time to address this, clearly. Seungkwan-ah, _hyung_ will try to sort this, but for now you have to stop crying and get in the shower, okay? You two, help him get there at least. Quick five-minute showers, it’s almost breakfast time. Jihoon-ah, come over here. I need to talk to you.”

He waited until the three fifth-years left the room before he pulled a glowering Jihoon down next to him. “You can’t fix this for him,” he said harshly and tightly. “I know you’re angry, but save it for your own training. Durmstrang is an anvil, Jihoon-ah, and Seungkwan will come out of here either less or someone tempered by fire. No, don’t scowl at me like that. Listen. We can’t do his runs for him, or push a button and reset his confidence. What we can do is be supportive. The Durmstrang students’ remarks, those are tests. They’ll see how far they can push him. I told you guys duelling is allowed here. Remind him about that.”

Jihoon’s expression went flat. “Right,” he said sarcastically. “Because somehow we pissed off the entire school by existing.”

“No,” Jeonghan said tightly as he stood. “I did that. But we can’t let that drag everyone down. We’re going to have to be careful, Jihoonie. Don’t fight his battles for him, but remind him that there are battles to be fought and that this is a different place. Do whatever you can to support the others. In the meantime I’ll see what I can do. Just give me some time, and don’t neglect yourself. Let’s go wash up at least, and then get dressed. We can shower quickly after they’re done.”

Jihoon gave him a long look before he nodded and stood as well. “Together,” he said, and reached a pinky out. “Unless they start making remarks about me as well, then I’m taking them down.”

Jeonghan’s smile turned razor-sharp and gleeful. “That’s the spirit.”

* * *

_ 7AM, 14 October 2020, Great Hearth: _

Jisoo watched worriedly as everyone convened for the 7AM breakfast. They weren’t seated at the three central tables any longer, having reverted to the Durmstrang model of picking a seat wherever your ass could find one. His fifth years looked ravenous though, with even Noémie falling on the food as if she hadn’t seen it for days. What worried him more was the tight look on the Udo kids as they showed up; he blinked as Minghao made way for Boo Seungkwan to sit at his side, staring down a loudly-laughing girl from Durmstrang.

Hannie… well, Hannie looked the very definition of ease, of course, in those long robes that flattered him so, but he knew his heart-friend well enough now to know that something was up. At his side the little kitten - Lee Jihoon? - was looking pale and gaunt; Jisoo watched as one of the White Wights came up to the boy as he sat down, putting down offerings he hadn’t seen much beyond last night’s bowl of rice: some kind of vegetable-based milk, and a huge bowl of congee, together with a small pack of seed biscuits that they, by virtue of miming, indicated he should put in his pocket.

“Seokmin-ah,” he said softly, trusting in his friend’s superb hearing. “You’re in a room with our petites, right? Did something happen this morning?”

Seokmin, pausing mid-gulp, shrugged before nodding. “Noémie came back with a mouth filthy with curses,” he said softly. “She was so angry she was spitting, and Ghyslaine pulled her aside. I just left them be. Minghao looked very pale as well, but he had that look, you know? The one where he’s quiet and watching and you can tell he’s planning how to kill you.”

Caught between a laugh and horror, Jisoo permitted himself a small grimace instead. “Should I be worried?”

“No,” Seokmin said. “The girls will fuss if you do. Let them handle whatever’s going on -- remember what Signore Cioppa said?”

Jisoo’s lips tucked into a smile at the mention of their Magical Textiles professor who, rumour had it, was rather a Casanova. “Rule five, right?”

Seokmin rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Rule five,” he confirmed.

_Rule five: If a woman wants you involved in something, she’ll tell you. Don’t step in when she hasn’t asked yet._

Jisoo, deciding that discretion was definitely the best part of valour, started to eat breakfast. 

Things went quiet until Minghao made his way past his table with a red-eyed, red-cheeked Gryffindor in his tow. “Seigneur,” he said as he arrived at the table, and bobbed his head as Jisoo looked up. “May I make known to you Boo Seungkwan of Udo Hogwarts, one of their Champions. I believe you didn’t have much time last night to meet him?”

Jisoo stared at Minghao, trying to figure out what his play was, before he gentled his expression and nodded to Boo Seungkwan, switching to Korean. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you,” he said. “I know your Jeonghan- _hyung_ very well. He’s said a lot about your work ethos and how proud he was of you. I’m Hong Jisoo, but you may call me Jisoo- _hyung_ , it might be easier for you and I feel we’re close already through him.”

“I… thank you,” Seungkwan stuttered, voice a soft whisper. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Jisoo- _hyung_ . I, yes, I wanted to say I admired your style. Minghao-ssi tells me that you are quite a designer. I know who you are as a duellist too, of course. And Jeonghan- _hyung_ tells me you dance very well.”

“Little Hao lied,” Jisoo said happily. “He’s a much better designer. Thank you though -- do you two have lessons together now?”

Minghao nodded after a look at the roster in his hand. “We have History of Magic after breakfast but we've agreed that Advanced Combat this afternoon is something to look forward to. We’re in with one of their classes here, I hear that it is quite something else.” He was staring at Jisoo, trying to communicate something with the arch of his excellent brows.

Jisoo didn’t quite get the message being telegraphed to him, but tried. “Ah, that’s nice… Seungkwan-ah - may I call you that?” At Seungkwan’s profuse nod he grinned. “Seungkwan-ah, did you know it’s legal to duel here, even for the student body? Don’t go easy on Little Hao, alright? Fighting!”

From the relieved look on Minghao’s face, not to mention the sudden introspection on Seungkwan’s, they had gotten it. Both of them bobbed a nod of the head and bid him goodbye. Jisoo watched them go, sighing. “Seokkie,” he mumbled. “I really wish it was the Beauxbatons method to go back to bed and nap until the world made sense again.”

“Me too,” Seokmin said prosaically. “Instead, I think we might not have a duelling arena here come nightfall. Hao-hao is _pissed off_. I’ve never seen him make a point as blunt as the one he made just now.”

* * *

_ Afternoon 14 October 2020, Advanced Combat Magics class, Stavkirk Tyr: _

“Advanced Combat,” Professor Eisa Habib said in smooth English as he stood in the middle of the combat circle in the class, looking at the faces in a circle around it. “Due to this being a Tournament Year, and the differing curriculums at the two schools, we’ve had to create this remedial class, and I’ve asked Radningar Chwe to assist me in getting all of you up to speed. We do not give points in this class -- you are either correct or wrong, and to punish others in your year for your mistake is not our goal. We also do not observe the niceties of etiquette here; this is a warrior’s class. Now. Can anyone tell me what the difference is between a Light spell and a Dark spell… you, with the red eyes?”

Seungkwan jerked as the teacher called on him and tried to remember the textbook definition, but his mind was mush. “Intent?” he said hesitantly.

“Interesting, Mr. Boo,” the Professor said, and waved his wand so that the word ‘Intent’ hung in fiery letters in the air. “And are you asking me or telling me?”

Seungkwan swallowed, cramping his hands around his wand. “It’s intent, sir,” he said, trying to firm his voice. “There are definitions, but overall they boil down to the intent the wizard or witch uses to cast the spell.”

The letters in the air turned blue as the Professor nodded. “Mr. Boo is correct. Historically the records are rife with mentions of ‘good’ spells used for ‘bad’, or ‘bad spells’ used for ‘good’. I am here to tell you that the measure of a spell’s alignment lies in your heart. Consider, if you wish, the matter of the Killing Curse.” Another flick of his wand, this time to make acid-green letters spell ‘Avada Kedavra’ in the air. “Some say it’s the most evil spell there is, because it takes life. I put it to you, is it the spell that’s evil, or the intent with which it’s cast? I’ll give you five minutes to discuss it - group up in fours. We are… ah, one short? Radningar, you join the one group of visitors.”

Given the speed with which the others had latched onto Youngho, or separated into Durmstrang-only groups, Seungkwan couldn’t say much when he saw the boy in the black-sashed red uniform walk over to them.

“This is how we learn here,” Vernon said quietly when he joined them. “No homework, but class practicals and discussions. We’ll be expected to argue our point for at least a minute. Does anyone want to…”

“Seungkwanie will be our spokesperson,” Mingyu said tightly, one hand on Seungkwan’s shoulder; on his other side, Minghao nodded. “But I say that the spell isn’t evil in and of itself. It’s the wizard that lends it intent when it’s cast, and that colours it.”

Minghao tilted his head. “Interesting,” he murmured quietly. “There is a big debate in the Comité National Consultatif D'éthique in the non-magical world, whether euthanasia should be legalised, and of course it already is in the magical world. Do you think that is one of the examples in which such a spell can be used ethically?”

“Passive euthanasia is legal in the Scandinavian countries,” Vernon added. “But not actively. That is still classified as illegal.”

“I…," Seungkwan hesitated. “I don’t know,” he finally said as he pinched his eyes shut to think past the wool in his mind. “I mean they use it…” He broke off as he rocked forward, shoved from behind.

“Oh, sorry,” a Durmstrang girl said without much care in her voice. “I didn’t see you there.”

Seungkwan grimaced. Getting a combat boot in the back of the leg had hurt, given how they were aching, but the girl had probably just done it accidentally, the class outside of the circle was pretty small. “Um, no worries,” he said as clearly as he could and went on. “It has seen legitimate use on magical beasts before, but it’s always been noted as, um, requiring great skill and intent and power… what?”

Vernon Chwe just looked at him, shaking his head. “Please continue.”

Mingyu frowned. “You’re saying that it’s difficult to separate intent from spell?” he interrupted. 

“No,” Seungkwan said. “I’m saying that it’s not so much a spell as it is really a big, powerful, magical ‘fuck off’. There’s no delicacy to it, no Arithmantic principles that I know of beyond the most base that says power is needed.”

“Ohhh,” Minghao said. “I think I get what you’re saying. You’re claiming that spells are magical constructs that've been tried and tested,” He fingered the tiny row of seals serving as decoration down one sleeve. “And that it’s really more of an emotion paired with a huge amount of power?”

Seungkwan sighed, relieved. “Yes!” he said. “It’s a tricky question, right? This professor is really something.” He paused as, for the first time he could remember, Vernon Chwe had the tiniest smile on his face. “I posit that the skill needed in the Killing Curse is not to make sure you overwhelm your target, but that you don’t splash it all over everyone else. It’s a soul magic if anything, and I’m thinking that it might require a core-sapping amount of magical potential for anyone that’s not extremely powerful in any case, like that old madman that used to fling it around in Britain. I…” 

“Time!” the professor called, and motioned them all to gather around again. “We’ll start off at the right of the room and go around left this time.”

Seungkwan breathed out slowly. That’d mean that they would go last at least, and that gave him a little moment to calm down.

One by one the small teams went, all of them bringing up examples that the professor nodded at, keeping score off towards the one side of the duelling circle. One of the four groups said it was dark, two said it was intent-based, including the group Youngho was in. 

When Professor Habib nodded at Seungkwan, he clenched his palms around his wand, felt the reassuring way the wood felt against his skin, and went for it.

“We’re saying it’s a trick question,” he began, and saw the professor’s eyebrows shoot up. “A spell or a curse are generally meticulously circumscribed and worked out. There's a method to magic as we've learned in Magical Theory. Spells, curses, charms, they all have counters; there have been studies proving the arithmantic principles behind spells, and they can be deconstructed. The Killing Curse is not like that. It is known to need only three things: a very strong wizard, extreme intent and extreme skill; no wand waving pattern, nor cadence to it's utterance. Setting aside the skill and the wizard, it comes down to intent.”

He took a deep breath. “Calling it a curse is a misnomer as well. It can’t be countered save by some form of inanimate protection, except for a rather famous case -- and I posit that’s because the Killing Curse is in effect not a spell; it’s a single overriding desire coupled with a whole heap of magical power, so it is more properly classed as a type of magnetised intent.”

The class was so silent he couldn’t hear them breathing, and the Professor stared stolidly at him, wand dancing between his fingertips. Seungkwan swallowed. “Not to dodge the question,” he defended himself. “But it was answered in the beginning by yourself, sir. I don’t believe anyone but the wizard casting it and whatever force is out there watching over our souls can say what the intent even is. Just as cause can’t always correlate to effect, intention can’t always correlate to outcome. I don’t know, I honestly don’t know.”

“An interesting answer,” the professor said, and continued with the class.

Seungkwan stepped back, trying not to shiver.

“What?” Mingyu demanded of Vernon. “Does that mean that we won that argument? Did we lose?”

“It’s not about winning or losing,” Vernon said very quietly. “It’s about making a point. That, at least, we did. The professors aren’t here to lay down the law. They want us to think. We did well.”

Seungkwan heard and felt a little kernel of warmth grow inside. He still disliked the mysterious boy, but… well, tomorrow would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Saga training is basically physical education: running, calisthenics, obstacle courses, so on. 
>   * Core Chrometry is basically an MRI for your magical core. 
> 



	6. INFO: Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons

## Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons

Described as one of the most beautiful magical schools there is, Beauxbâtons is the premier magical education institution in France and indeed Europe, and is not restricted to a single campus. 

### Château Hélénie

Following the traditions of old, the school has numerous campuses that students move between depending on the season, with the most well-known being the [ Château Hélénie ](https://chateaugudanes.com/) in the French Pyrenees. This is the site of the tertiary school and administrative offices: it provides the equivalent to a magical degree, and is where most of the post-school students can attend visiting specialists. Unusually for a magical school, it also has an entire section dedicated to the social graces, which teach the young men and women of Beauxbâtons all the necessary touches to entering modern society. Etiquette - both magical and non-magical - is highly stressed, and other necessary skills may include the running of estates, the modern political and economic trends, and a more intense cultural studies course than the lower years can access. All students come here at least once a year for a month-long refresher course, but the only ones in full-time residence are those pursuing masteries, degrees or research opportunities made possible by Beauxbâtons’ impressive grant program.

### The Winter School

The Winter School is based out of the Château de Val in the Lanobre commune, sitting on the banks of an artificial lake fed by the Dordogne river. As part of a historical bequest to the school, the region knows that there is a school of some sort on the premises but the entire area is shielded behind wards to allow for student activities. An extensive part of the fake peninsula is given to various sports endeavours: the abundant horse trails and stables, from the famed Abraxans to the Granians and Hippogriffs the students are allowed, cross-country treks, access to winter skiing routes and the like.

The castle itself is very old and as such buildings go, centuries of magic has rendered it somewhat sentient. There are those that discover how to communicate with it and sometimes it leads them on wacky adventures through parts of it that aren’t generally open.There aren’t that many ghosts - not many people died here - but the few there are are generally protective of the children and will sometimes lead the youngest ones out of dangerous areas. There are absolutely no poltergeists here.

### The Summer School

The summer school is located in the Château Médieval de Roquebrune, though it often spills over into the adjacent areas. As it straddles the line between Roquebrune-Cap-Martin and Menton, both areas see visitor traffic from the school, and the lovely weather has the students spending most of their time outdoors. Due to the high non-magical population in the area, the students are much more proscribed in what they can do, and the obviously magical sports are tucked away on the Château’s grounds, whilst non-magical sports like swimming, yachting and the like enjoy more traction in the summer months. 

The oldest of the three sister castles, the Château was built in 970 and is the most mannered of the three. The younger students especially benefit from this, as they receive guidance from it via magical portraits and the charmed mirrors that are in all dormitories. In this area especially, the first two forms are not allowed out of the school grounds, not only because they might have magical accidents still, but because the school does not consider them ‘ready’ to interact with the star-studded, internationally famous people that frequent the coast in summer.

### School Structure

As the school is difficult and competitive to get into, classes are smaller than might be imagined, especially for an academy that is fed by most of Europe. There are rarely more than twenty kids in each year of a form, with group-based education possibly being as small as five children in a class.

After second school education has been completed, students have the choice of participating in the Masteries/research programs that the school sponsors, but at that time they pass out of the Forms system and are referred to by whatever noble titles they might hold of their own right, or the polite forms of whichever country they come from. Since the magical nobility in France is still going strong (unlike the non-magical counterparts), there are more true nobles at the school than one might think.

Beauxbâtons is not quite secular and all religions are welcomed, as long as those practising them are responsible and respectful. Vidame Thévenet rules the religious milieu with a strict and fair hand, and students are allowed to take off holy days particular to their religion. Due to its location, however, the students are mostly Catholic or subscribe to older, more Pagan faiths. 

Schooling at Beauxbâtons is divided into four stages called ‘Forms’: 

  1. Squires (Écuyer) - Years stretching from 6-9
  2. Stewards (Intendant) - Years 10-12
  3. Knights (Chevaliers) - Years 13-15
  4. Nobles (Noblesse) - Years 16-17



#### Form 1 (Squires):

  1. The first year is taught in two separate flows, with one being in French and one in English. Each class is expected to learn the opposite language, and they rejoin into a single class from the second year onwards.
  2. Maths and Science Education, Creative Arts, and PSHE (Personal, Social and Health Education) form the basis of the Muggle courses for the level. All children are expected to take all of these to provide a basic level of literacy and numeracy and scientific knowledge.
  3. Language education is heavily slanted to French and English to provide a stable platform for later education. All children will be in either of these two language classes and a third language (the mother tongue or another) is heavily suggested. Beauxbâtons prides itself on its cosmopolitan nature, so even if there isn’t a teacher that can already instruct in a language, a tutor is arranged.
  4. Courses like History, Geography, and Creative Studies (Music and Art) are geared to both worlds to provide a solid grounding.
  5. Each child has physical education each day. For the first three years this is calisthenics, gymnastics, martial arts and the like. In addition to that, at certain times of the year water-based sport classes and snow-based sport classes are given, with certified trainers to make sure a thorough grounding is received.
  6. Magical education for the first form is strictly limited to five major courses that form the backbone of magical education: Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Herbology, Potions and Transfiguration. The first form children are never taught Combat Magics, not only not to strain or taint their developing magical cores, but because it is considered déclassé to concentrate on such violent arts so early in life. Instead, because there are many students that are ‘Beast Bloods’, so to speak, Care of Magical Creatures is subbed in.
  7. Each student in this form is thus expected to take at least 12 courses. Most of these produce credits, and at least 10 credits are needed to pass to the next year. PSHE/Physical education does not give any credits, so students are only allowed to fail one (1) course per year, and will be expected to retake that.
  8. Curfew: 8PM for the youngest. The three older years have a curfew of 9PM. All of them eat supper at 5PM, an hour earlier than Form 2, and two hours earlier than the upper year students.
  9. Club hours: Squires have no club time hours, not only to give them a reasonable chance of getting clean and in bed on time, but to give them an hour study time to help them acclimate to the curriculum.



#### Form 2 (Stewards):

  1. By now the students fall into one group, and education is interchangeably given in French/English, with French dominating. You are allowed to converse in English, but are expected to look up any missing pieces of vocab or grammar you don’t have. 
  2. Those that wish to continue with Mathematics and Science are allowed to do so as electives, especially those that wish to obtain non-magical degrees one day, but this level is where these subjects begin to fall away, or at least broaden for those looking at them from a magical perspective.
  3. This is the first level in which magical electives are taught to the kids, and the first in which they may take subjects like Flying, Combat Magics, Divination and Magical Theory. Alchemy, Arithmancy and the rest are still restricted, as they require rigorous knowledge of the core topics. 
  4. Students’ lessons are split up in forty one-hour chunks across a week, with the requirements as follows:
    1. Maths, Science and Languages: 5 credits/hours per week
    2. Creative Electives: 10 credits/hours per week
    3. Physical and Health Studies: 5 credits/hours per week. These may be spent in whichever way you like, provided that it is some form of physical exercise or a lecture like Sex Education.
    4. Magical Courses: 15 credits/hours per week, of which 10 per week have to be from the five default to give time for lab classes.
    5. Magical Electives: 5 credits/hours per week for new electives like Divination or Flying.
  5. Students’ allowed Club Hours per week are restricted to no more than five, to make space for study periods.
  6. Curfew: 10PM



#### Form 3 (Knights)

  1. From this level students are taught exclusively in French, though visitors like the Tournament Participants will be tutored in English (or whichever language Beauxbâtons feels they need). 
  2. Likewise, Muggle Sciences fall away as a hard requirement, though the freed slots are added to elective slots for those that still wish to continue taking them.
  3. All magical courses are now available to the students save Alchemy and Ancient Studies, as those two are reserved for the fourth form, and on a strict apprenticeship base only.
  4. Students have to take a minimum of three (3) magical electives.
  5. The forty-hour week are split up as follows:
    1. Creative Electives: 10 credits/hours per week. This includes Drawing and Portraiture, Art History, Sculpture, Music, Dancing, Literature, Theatre, Architecture, and Textiles.
    2. Magical Courses: 15 credits/hours per week, of which 10 per week are reserved for labs.
    3. Electives: 10 credits/hours per week, with labs arranged as necessary. These may be taken by magical or muggle electives.
    4. Physical and Health Studies: 5 credits/hours per week.
  6. Having learned the Beauxbâtons ‘Way’, students may now have 10 club hours per week for whatever extracurricular activities they wish to have.
  7. Curfew:11PM



#### Form 4 (Nobles)

  1. All instruction on this level students are taught exclusively in French, though visitors like the Tournament Participants will be tutored in English (or whichever language Beauxbâtons feels they need). 
  2. The lesson requirements remain the same, with the addition of Alchemy and Ancient Studies for those lucky enough to be picked for those classes. These students are also taught Apparition and Driving, both considered to be necessary skills.
  3. The week remains the same for them, although their electives may be dropped to two in rare cases (and this is considered shameful by the students themselves, who pride them on their accomplishments). 
  4. At this level the students take two two-week trips to outside sources: one to a Muggle facility of choice like the World Court in the Hague, and one to the ICW to observe a session in progress. As Beauxbâtons students often step into very large shoes upon graduating, they are exposed early to governance and law both magical and muggle.
  5. Fourth-form students do not have a curfew, as long as they handle themselves responsibly and diplomatically. The school and teachers watch them like hawks though -- a child that has made it this far is an investment into the school’s future, and they do their best to make sure that none falter.
  6. No mandatory club hours at this level; the students are free to arrange their own schedules as long as physical fitness still happens once a day and they keep up their studies



Graduation Day is a proud and special one for each Beauxbâtons student. They are feted by the whole school, and they receive a going-away present from the staff, along with elaborate certificates, diplomas and other qualifications. They have made it through one of the most rigorous schools in Europe, and mastered the challenge.


	7. CHAP: Class snippets

_Late afternoon, Stavkirk Freyr’s side of the Myrkvior, October 14, 2020:_

Seokmin made his way to _Stavkirk_ Freyr’s quarter of the strange school, thanking his lucky stars he had gotten used to it over the previous few days. Not much here made sense to him, not after the refinement Beauxbatons exhibited, and a part of him hoped that Udo would be different. He had rarely been back to his homeland, and looked forward to seeing the place -- not to mention eat all the delicacies the others had told him about.

Besides, the air here was murder on his throat, and it was only the liberal honey-tea that went with the mead here that soothed that. He frowned as he pushed forward a little faster.

It cost him a little hunting and asking to find the outside space the class was in. It hunkered against the back of the larger classrooms and looked like nothing so much as a hut, a small one outfitted with what looked like antlers and with elaborate carvings running up and down its lintels. To one side he spotted a woman clad in what looked like pelts, tied with natural twines, and he envied her immediately: she looked far warmer than he felt. The closer he came he could see what looked like little totems tied in her loose hair. 

He scooted into the little space and finally saw beyond the curve of the hut: Soonyoung, Jihoon and Seungkwan already sheltered there, hunkering down in a row like little ducklings. He grinned wide when Soonyoung looked up, holding up a thumbs-up before nodding and bowing to the professor. “Professor Bach,” he said. “Should I move through as well?”

She lifted her head to acknowledge the bow and nodded, waving him through. “Over there,” she said in a strongly accented voice. “At the end of the row, please.”

He scooted around and sank down next to Seungkwan, wincing at his knees popped -- honestly, he was fit, but Durmstrang took fitness to a scary level. 

Greetings passed between them: a fistbump for Seungkwanie, nods to Soonyoung and the distant Jihoon. As he settled in to wait he stared at the ground being worked, and puzzled at the implement the professor was using. It looked like ivory or bone, not metal at all. “Is that… is that bone?” he asked Seungkwan very softly. 

“I think so,” Seungkwan muttered sotto voce. “We offered to help but she said ‘not yet’.”

The professor paused and waved her hand to the hut. Seconds later, what looked like five steaming mugs and five little chairs danced out, rocking to a halt in front of them. She took her mug, settled down on the little chair and stared at them. “So… sit, drink your tea, and take a moment to relax. This is the Natural Magics remedial class, and you will be more inherently in touch with your inner abilities when you relax.” She paused. “May I see your wands, please? After that, put them in your holsters, we won’t need them.”

Seokmin took the mug and sniffed at it, nearly groaning at the scent of hot, sweet tea. He plonked his backside on the little chair, took a warming sip and hauled out his wand, flicking it the other way around and offering it to the profesor.

Professor Bach leant closer to look at it, asking permission with an arch of her eyebrows. When he nodded, she took the wand gently and closed her eyes. “Willow wood?” she asked after a moment. “And something like unicorn hair, but not exactly.” She opened her eyes to look at them. “There is the dogma that wands and their cores can tell you a lot about a witch or wizard.”

Seokmin nodded happily, taking another sip. “Girin hair from the belly!” he said, impressed. “My parents and _Vidame_ took me to a wandmaker in Japan when the ones from Gregorovich didn’t suit.”

“A lovely wand,” she said calmly. “And as I said, it does tell me about you.” She handed it back, nodding to Seungkwan.

Seungkwan looked hesitant to hand the length of grey-brown wood over; Seokmin watched him with concern, and shuffled a little closer to push their shoulders together. “Buck up,” he whispered to him.

Professor Bach’s mouth curved oddly as she took the long wand, eyes closing again. “Oak,” she murmured. “An oriental variety, it was once hit with a lightning bolt but it survived. Highly sturdy and opinionated, I can feel it even now. It has to be with the core though, _that_ is not happy to be in my hand is it?” She grimaced, then smiled as she headed it back to Seungkwan. “Rest assured, no one with that wand can be Dark. It would burn them up first.”

“Oh,” Seungkwan said in a wobbly sort of voice, sounding suspiciously teary. “Thank you,” he muttered as he put it away and sipped at his drink, shoulders relaxing a little. 

Jihoon had his wand out before the professor asked for it, kitten face intent as she took it and concentrated on it.

“Walnut for the highly intelligent,” Professor Bach said, eyebrows arching. “And I believe you are in your… Ravenclaw, correct? But the core, it says _dragon_ to me, but not in the way a heartstring would shout of its owner’s death. What is this?”

“A whisker,” Jihoon said promptly. “I don’t know where it comes from, but it… it chose my mother before me, and me in turn when I grew old enough to hold it.”

Professor Bach had a misty smile. “Willingly given, perhaps that’s what I’m sensing. A potential for power, yes, but it was the family connection. You were close to your mother before she … passed on? There are still the traces of a great woman on it beneath yours.”

Jihoon swallowed and nodded, pinching his lips together as he took his wand. His shoulders shifted, but settled as Seungkwan draped his arm over them. 

Seokmin watched as Soonyoung reached from the other side to give Jihoon’s hand a slow squeeze; seconds later his eyebrows arched at the wand Soonyoung produced. He had caught glimpses of it before, but like this the pinkish-gold wood shone with a polish of sorts, bands of colour shifting up and down its length almost like an opal.

Moments after she took it, Professor Bach actually laughed, and pinched it very gently between her fingertips. “I’m not a wand user, but this is a _very_ pretty wand, Mr. Kwon -- and it chose well, I think. Cedar, right? A very old tree, I can still feel the ages falling around the tree. The core is surprising though -- how did they get the Erumpent to sit still for long enough to ask for horn shavings?”

Soonyoung gave a wide, happy smile as he took his wand back. “It was a very old bull! It mellowed out a little, I think. What does it mean?”

She held a finger up before pointing to each of them in turn. “Mr. Lee’s is perhaps the most straightforward, but not simple: willow can mean healing tendencies, but with some emotional vulnerability; the girin hair makes it very suitable for defense. To me that means that he protects both inside and out, but that he might still need a little help himself.” She tilted her head. “A real healer’s wand, I would say, and perhaps the most gentle of the lot -- I like the composition a lot.”

Seokmin swallowed and nodded; this time it was Seungkwan that gently bumped his shoulder.

“Mr. Boo,” she continued, “has a very powerful wand, but a very _choosy_ , temperamental one -- excuse me, Mr. Boo, but I’ve noticed you have a tendency to mother and nag your friends as well? For their own benefit, that is?”

Seungkwan blinked and swallowed. “I… someone has to!” he said urgently. “They don’t take care of themselves as they should.”

Professor Bach nodded, tiny little amulets in her hair clattering. “That is so, no teenager is good at looking after themselves, and it speaks well of you that you do, but of all the wands here it’s also the most… asleep, would be the word. You need to start taking care of yourself too, and concentrate on _you_ ; only then will you be able to harness the true power of that wand.”

“We tell him all the time!” Soonyoung pouted from the side. “Hopefully he listens now that someone else says it.”

Seungkwan shot Soonyoung a _look_ , but he had a thoughtful look on his face as he drank the tea. “Yes, Professor,” he said.

“Well and good,” Professor Bach said. “Mr. Lee - Lee Jihoon - your wand is powerful too, but powerfully _protective_ , and it will carry the core of the love you carry for your mother within it always, and hers for you. It _is_ an intellectual’s wand, but a powerful one -- don’t get lost in your studies, young man. Give some time for other things too… which reminds me, see me after supper, the Jarl noted something to me.”

“Yes… ma’am?” Jihoon said, quite obviously confused. “I’ll do so.”

Professor Back turned to face the vibrating, bouncing Soonyoung. “Do I even need to tell you?” she teased softly. “A very eager wand, and powerful, but with a bullish tendency to rush in at times and face your problems head on, when there are easier ways of solving them. You are very loyal to those you love and protect, are you not? Never lose that.”

Soonyoung nudged Jihoon in the side. “I’m loyal,” he happily said. “Did you hear that, Jihoonie?”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “I have ears.”

Professor Bach pulled their attention back with a single clearing of her throat. “However, beyond that, wands are a _tool_. You may see them as necessary, or as pets of some sort, but magic does not require them. Accidental magic is entirely wandless, and there are many more practices in the world than waving wands. I believe we’re lucky Mr. Lee -- may I call you Seokmin for ease of identity, since we have two? He can tell us something about this topic.”

Seokmin startled, almost dropping the half-empty mug, and nodded happily at the professor. “Please… I think I’m a little younger than Jihoon in any case.” As the others’ eyes settled on him, he nodded again, although he felt shyness roil down his spine and up into his hairline. “Um, yes. Sometimes if I’m concentrating right, I can sing my spells. There are lots of people that cast through music as well, we have some at Beauxbatons.”

She nodded. “That’s exactly right. You do not _need_ a wand. All you need is a connection with the world around you, and understand how to stretch forth your magic to do what you want. Now. I have decided I want a garden here, but you can see the ground is very cold, and it’ll need a little help so you’re going to help me with that. Please put away your wands.”

Soonyoung lifted his head, easily stowing his wand as he looked around. “It’s a little protected, but still not an ideal place for a garden. Do you want a herb garden or a vegetable plot, or a relaxation garden?”

The professor’s smile came again, a little warmer this time. “You know about gardening, Mr. Kwon?”

“No,” Soonyoung admitted above Seungkwan and Jihoon’s laughter; he gave them a quick scowl. “Shut it, I’m not that bad. Professor, I’m not that talented at Herbology, but my parents are farmers. They provide the majority of the fresh fruits, grains and vegetables for the school; my father’s head of the Udo Farming Association.” He paused. “They’re not magical, but they’re good.”

“Yes, I’ve heard rumours that you are - to use an oversimplified term - a Muggleborn,” she said. “We won’t have time to correct that in this class, but it doesn’t matter. The land knows who loves it. Now, Mr. Kwon, I want a vegetable garden here, perhaps with a few fruit trees around the edge where it touches the main building walls.” She spared each of them a glance. “What do you think is necessary?”

Jihoon held his mug up a little. “Warmth?” he queried? “Like you said, the ground is cold, and it looks hard as well.”

“Good,” she said. “What else?”

Seokmin cleared his throat. “Um, obviously a way to get magic to work -- I could sing?”

Seungkwan brightened, looking a little happier. “Jihoon- _hyung_ and I are in the Frog Choir at Udo!” he said quickly. “And even Soonyoung- _hyung_ can sing, he can be extremely powerful. Also… perhaps if we can get some of the native spirits here to look after it and give it a little extra love? Like… not like your Nissars here, but spirits of the land?”

Professor Bach nodded. “ _Landvættir_ , that’s the word we use around here. Spirits that promote fertility and protection of a place. Since you’ve each given ideas… Mr. Kwon? Any idea?”

Soonyoung opened his mouth, then shut it, and stared at the ground for a long time before hesitantly lifting his gaze to her. “Somewhere nice for them to hang out in? I mean, I’m not sure, but my mom always makes her gardens as pretty as possible, and who wouldn’t want to live in a beautiful place?”

Professor Bach clapped her hands together. “Exactly… I wonder if your parents aren’t Earthspeakers, the way you describe them. Seokmin?”

“I don’t know,” Seokmin demurred. “I mean, this place is a little ugly. It’s just an empty space. Perhaps if we outline plots neatly with some rocks, and do something pretty in a corner where the spirits can look out over the whole garden?” He lifted his gaze to look at the surroundings. “Perhaps there,” he said, pointing to the nook between hut and building walls. “It’s protected.”

“Would a rune-stone work?” Seungkwan asked hesitantly. “A biggish one, maybe?”

She said nothing, merely tilted her head.

“I guess we can,” Jihoon said. “I mean, Soonyoung and I are in Advanced Runes with the Brainy Boys, so we can research which might help.”

“And we can tie in a ward so that students don’t accidentally trample it!” Soonyoung offered with a little seated hop. “It’ll give me something to do in Professor Bloch’s classes beyond trying not to see those two… uh yeah.”

“We’ll have to practice our singing together,” Seokmin said. “And we’ll need to find a good gardening song, or something that’s meant to bless the land with fertility, and maybe one here that the land spirits would understand?”

Professor Bach clapped her hands together again, looking pleased. “I will arrange for a suitable stone, I know who to ask. It is a good idea, Seokmin, but they listen to your heart and magic, not always your words. Find one you can all sing comfortably - perhaps in English or Korean - and that will work as well. I will release you for the rest of the class, but you will need to go work on your singing, yes?”

“It’s been so long,” Seungkwan murmured, a small smile appearing on his face. “Wow, I’ve not sung in _weeks_.”

Seokmin stood and reached to collect all the cups, grinning. “Then it’s time and you’re probably rusty.” Grouping the things neatly to the side, he bowed in goodbye to the professor before grabbing Seungkwan’s hand. “Come on! Ah… bye professor!”

Professor Bach smiled as each of them bowed, waving them off. “Remember, after supper!” she called after Jihoon.

“Yes, ma’am!” he hollered back over his shoulder. 

* * *

_Before supper, Langhus, 14 October 2020:_

Soonyoung would be the first to admit that he didn’t get through the day well; he hadn’t had enough sleep thanks to their midnight session. The bed here was strange and he felt the jankiness of wanting to fly in his bones -- not that he could, it’s like Durmstrang forgot Quidditch after Viktor Krum left. There had been a few high points, like when the Thunderbird Professor Aisling had in class had come to sit on his head, or the weird time in Natural Magics class, but on the whole the day had been a steaming pile of shit.

Besides, who had ever heard of Phys Ed just before supper? And…

He broke off from his thoughts as Jihoon came from seemingly nowhere to walk arm-against-arm with him; it was so rare for the Ravenclaw to approach him he didn’t know what to do really beyond a couple of confused blinks.

“Jihoonie?” he questioned. “Hey. You look…”

“Stow it with that shit,” Jihoon grumbled in Korean, lips on a thin, bloodless line. “We have their saga training later, right? We’re going to destroy them. You, me and Jun. I heard they're making up some bullshit remedial class for us there as well, so we’re going to crush them.”

Soonyoung had that uneasy feeling he didn’t have all the facts. Jihoon rarely cursed but here he was, practically aglow. “Not that I mind,” he said at length, “But is there any specific reason we’re crushing them?”

Jihoon looked up at him, glance intent and measured. “They did the same to Seungkwanie this morning,” he finally said. “And Jeonghan- _hyung_ has forbidden me from interfering directly and cursing that little shit Chwe blind. So we’re going to do unto them what they did unto him, if you catch my drift. He’ll have to deal with them directly, but I’m aching to knock these Durmstrang bastards down a peg or two.”

It was odd, feeling the kernel of anger in him ignite into being. Soonyoung was the first to torture Seungkwan, because he was an uptight boy that needed to let go some, but the thought of his _dongsaeng_ being crushed didn’t sit well with him at all. “Oh,” he said quietly. Then, “Yes. Okay.”

Jihoon paused, frowning. “Are you okay?” he asked suspiciously. 

Soonyoung managed to grimace a smile. There were aspects of his personality he really didn’t want to expose the other to, least of all what he was like when he was really, _really_ angry. “I’m fine. See you at seven, Jihoonie. Bye-bye.” Managing a thin smile, he pushed off into the crowd, trying to remember the way back to his new room.

* * *

_Afternoon, Stavkirk Tyr - Mental Magics classroom, 15 October 2020:_

The classroom was awfully small even measured against Durmstrang standards, literally just a couple of chairs around a desk -- the only thing that made it stand out as a classroom and not a study were the collections of posters and mind-maps on the wall. It contrasted, Jeonghan thought, rather strangely with the quite excellent collection of shrunken heads just below them. He felt as if hundreds of tiny eyes were looking at him as he slid into his seat. 

With a wave of his wand and a non-verbal Tempus, glowing numbers that he was right on time. He briefly wondered where Jihoon was; as far as he was concerned, Mental Magics would be one of the classes he would share with his precious junior. 

It had come as a surprise to him when Professor Mett had pulled them together and informed them that they were both required to take the subject. He had an inkling to why he was required to attend the class; if his hunch was correct, someone must have ratted him out to Professor Mett. That or the Durmstrang contingent had wised up and was playing this year strategically. 

As to Jihoon, he had no idea why his close friend would need this subject. His mind was most often a whirl of Alchemical constructs repeating over and over, so fortified that he didn’t even need to try and read him to see them -- perhaps it came from his absurdly organised mind. In any case Jeonghan had been more than ready to slide his way out of the additional classes, but when Jihoon had not objected to it despite the fact that he already had eleven classes on his plate, Jeonghan had had to bite back his complaints. 

Jeonghan sighed. Back in his fifth year, he had gone gung-ho on all the offerings Durmstrang had for their students and had nearly buckled due to sheer exhaustion. Fifth year Jeonghan had foolishly thought that without homework, assignments or after-class coursework, the classes would be a lot easier than they were in Hogwarts. He had never been so wrong; the classes had been much more difficult and draining. 

Durmstrang, under Jarl Thorisdottir’s lead, lived up to its moniker of the Wizarding Military School. Subjects were in longer blocks of time and a full class day for the academically-inclined could last up until nine in the evening. Students who had the misfortune of having subjects in different faculties, or _Stavkirks_ as they were called here, had to know how to organize and optimise their schedules to make sure that they make it to class on time -- regardless of which building or quarter they came from. On top of that, every student from the littlest to the biggest were mandated to undergo daily physical training for at least an hour. 

_It was no wonder that they had to do without assigned works, no sane witch or wizard would survive classes and homework in the Trelleborgen._

Here for a second time, he had taken a step back and only enlisted in his NEWTs classes. He had tried to warn the others about the way Durmstrang handled their classes, but he could only do so much advising. In the end, the others hadn’t really listened and had taken whatever course they fancied. Though he could clearly see the stress of adjusting to an unfamiliar environment, his teammates had been thankfully gracious enough not to complain that much. 

The door to the room opened with a creak which made Jeonghan turn around, hoping that it was Jihoon that would walk in; instead his hopes were crushed when three Durmstrang students he had never seen before strolled in. The three students nodded their heads at him in acknowledgement and he smiled in return as they took the seats across him. 

He watched them with interest, noting that the three didn’t exchange any words and opted to keep to themselves. They were an eclectic mix: one was a tall, severe-looking girl with black hair who had pins on her sashes that rivalled Seungcheol’s decorations. The other girl was slightly shorter, less decorated and was a frail-looking redhead; the third and only male of the group had a couple of patches on his own sash but looked like he could take Kim Mingyu in a fight. 

His observation of the three halted when the door opened again and in came Vernon Chwe. Vernon sauntered in with an air of confidence that was absent from the other three students, pins and patches on full display on his sash. 

The fifth year bowed slightly with an easy smile and Jeonghan could see why Seungkwan had been curious for the past few days. “ _Stallari_ Blix, _Radningar_ Sigmundsdottir, Strom, Champion Yoon, good afternoon.”

The two girls, the ones who had nodded at Blix and Sigmundsdottir, smiled at him reservedly. The other Durmstrang male, Strom, grinned familiarly at him. “What’s up, _Radningar_ Chwe?” the boy said, lifting his knuckles up. 

Vernon shook his head and fistbumped the guy, immediately taking the seat next to his classmate, which was a seat away from Jeonghan. 

“Good afternoon _Radningar_ Chwe,” Jeonghan greeted belatedly. He got a tight-lipped smile in return before Vernon Chwe faced Strom and started conversing in Swedish; even that acknowledgement surprised him. The past few days had not shown signs of thawing the Ice Prince - he had no idea why Chan used that ridiculous nickname - but pleasant surprises were always welcome in Jeonghan’s book.

The door opened for a third time; and thank Merlin it was finally Jihoon who came in a rush, cheeks red and chest heaving. 

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at the boy, wondering why he looked so rushed. 

Jihoon shook his head and mouthed ‘later’. 

The Klockstenen rang four times and the door disappeared from the wall with a loud clicking sound which made Jihoon jump in surprise. Jeonghan heard Strom snicker and he whipped around to fix the bigger Durmstrang guy with a glare. 

Strom held his hands up and shrugged while Vernon looked like he could care less. Jihoon beelined for Jeonghan and sat stiffly, barely paying the other four students any attention. 

“You alright?” Jeonghan muttered under his breath as he rearranged himself to lean closer to Jihoon.

“I’m fine, _hyung_ ,” Jihoon replied through gritted teeth, but he relaxed into his seat nonetheless. 

“Where were you?” Jeonghan asked softly. “Didn’t you have Potions as well? I saw you guys exit Freyr around the same time as my Potions class ended, but you were cutting it close just now,” he said as he nodded to the disappeared door’s location.

“It’s nothing,” Jihoon waved dismissively. “I’ll tell you-”

Whatever Jihoon had wanted to say was cut off with a bang and a lot of smoke coming from the sole desk they were facing.

“Aish,” Jeonghan hissed whilst Jihoon cursed audibly in Korean when he almost fell off his seat in shock at the commotion. Jeonghan noticed that none of the Durmstrang students were as disturbed as them. He frowned slightly, wondering whether it had been a pre-agreed trick.

A dark figure slowly emerged in the middle of the smoke, and resolved into a handsome man leaning against the desk. He was dressed in the standard Durmstrang Professor uniform of matching grey long sleeved shirt, pants, and black combat boots, with an orange pin of a wolf holding his fur-trimmed, black cape. 

He looked young, more so than most of the professors Jeonghan has encountered so far; whilst he had a roguish quality to him, he exuded power. 

“Hell of an entrance, right, Ms. Blix?” The professor said with an exaggerated wink to the serious girl. 

Ms. Blix rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I’m afraid it has lost its charm after seeing it for years, Professor.”

“Good one!” The professor laughed heartily, throwing his head back with abandon that had Jeonghan looking at Jihoon with incredulity written all over his face. 

_What was happening?_

“I had to try and impress our visitors,” he said with a grin as he unsheathed his wand and with a flick, Cyrillic letters floated in front of them before transforming into English letters: Teterev Gaspar Germanovich. 

“Professor Gaspar,” he introduced himself with a flourish as he faced the two Hogwarts students. “You two would know me if I had you guys in my Advanced Charms classes, but I heard that you-,” he pointed at Jihoon, “-are with Kai, and you,” he pointed his wand at Jeonghan, “-are with Madam Octavia.”

Jeonghan nodded, wary of the spectacle, but a part of him wished that he was in Professor Gaspar’s classes with Joshua and Seungcheol instead of Professor Afer's stern lectures. 

“Welcome to Mental Magics class,” Professor Gaspar continued. “As you can see, we have a pretty intimate class. It’s a little less than I’m used to teaching, but Mental Magics is not a field for the faint-hearted and the poorly-skilled. I know you four, but our visitors do not know any of you. I think introductions are good, since you are going to be spending time in each other’s heads. Then we can discuss our limitations and our triggers. How about you start us off, Mr.-?”

“Yoon. Jeonghan Yoon,” Jeonghan answered in English.

“Alright then, Mr. Yoon. Please, let us know what you can do, why you are in this class, and what you want to achieve from this class.”

This would be the first time Jeonghan admitted to this out loud; half of him braced for how Jihoon would react. The other students, Vernon Chwe included, didn't matter; he could only hope that it would not become an issue for their team. Straightening his back, he took a deep breath before facing all his classmates. 

"Hello, my name is Jeonghan Yoon. I can read minds without using the Legilimency Spell. I've been told that that is called being a Natural Legilimens," he paused for a bit, peeking at Jihoon. 

Jihoon seemed shocked, evidenced by the younger's gape, but there were no traces of hurt or anger so far, so Jeonghan continued. "As for why I am taking this class; I have never had formal Legilimency training," he finished.

He didn't know if it was his imagination but he swore he heard Vernon Chwe and the Blix girl scoff. 

"Thank you, Mr. Yoon," the professor said before Jeonghan could even process what he thought he heard. "We will assess your ability later. Moving on, yes, sir, you," he trained his wand on Jihoon. "You're up next."

Jihoon tore his eyes away from Jeonghan at the professor's command; Jeonghan didn't need to read minds to figure out that everything fell into place for the younger. He watched the sixth year fumble in his seat and nodded his head to reassure Jihoon. 

_We will really have to talk later._

Jihoon cleared his throat and raised his hand a bit. "Hello. I am Jihoon Lee," he started.

Jeonghan noticed that he was looking at everyone but him. _Interesting._

"I practice Occlumency," Jihoon went on."It was taught to me by a family member. I took this class because, like Jeonghan, I have never had formal training with it."

_Wow,_ Jeonghan thought as he stared at Jihoon who was still pointedly looking away. _So that’s why your mind looks like that._

"Alright, Mr. Lee, thank you. I will test your skills as well. Vernon, take it away. I won't be interrupting anymore, I promise," Professor Gaspar quipped with a clap of his hands.

Vernon Chwe nodded. Jeonghan forgot all about Jihoon and leant in closer. Thoughts of what Vernon could do has plagued his mind ever since the welcome ceremony and he was excited to finally figure out what the boy did. 

"My name is Vernon Chwe," he said with a faint smirk as he looked around everyone. "This is my first year with Mental Magics but Professor Gaspar has been helping me with my Occlumency. I am a Natural Occlumens and I want to learn about both Legilimency and Conviamency."

Before Jeonghan could even wrap his brain around ‘Conviamency’, Strom picked up the slack and introduced himself. "Oliver Strom. This is my first year here, I'm a Natural Legilimens like our visitor," he said with a jerk of his thumb in Jeonghan's direction. "I'm here for Conviamency and Occlumency like Chwe. It seemed fun."

The frail redhead was next and sat up straighter, starting with an airy voice. "Astrun Sigmundsdottir, but call me Astrun. I'm not a natural anything, but I have always been fascinated with Mental Magics. I'm partial to memories and mental shields. They're always so telling, even more than what people actually think…," she said, trailing off as she stared at Jihoon. 

Lastly, it was the severe girl's turn. Jeonghan didn't know how one could look both bored and engaged at the same time, but she may just have perfected the art of feigning nonchalance. "My name is Ingvild Blix. You may call me Blix. I am a Natural Occlumens, and it's my third year with Mental Magics. Mental Magics is required to be a Coven Barrister. I like looking at memories and extracting the truth and the lies out of them."

"Ooh!" Professor Gaspar cooed as Blix ended her own introduction. He hit the desk twice and crossed his arms, looking at everyone with pride flashing in his eyes. "You have all given noble reasons to study the art of mind magic, though it’s not a quick how-to course"

There was a swoosh to Jeonghan's left and all of the posters of brains and mind maps came flying to the front of the classroom, obscuring his view of the professor. 

"Strom! What have you learned in the past 8 classes?" The professor barked as he cut through the posters. 

"Uh, the brain?" Strom answered unsurely.

"Just the brain? How about you Ms. Sigmundsdottir?" 

"No means no, professor," she recited dutifully. 

"Excellent!" Professor Gaspar boomed. 

He walked off the desk and tapped his wand twice on the air, charming all the chairs to move and face him in the middle. "If there's anything you should take away from this class, it's this: consent favors Mental Magics," he said seriously, eyes seeking out everyone's until they landed at Jeonghan.

Jeonghan could feel his neck warm up at the contact, there was a tingling feeling at the back of his brain and he briefly wondered if the Professor was already reading his mind. 

"You can be the most talented natural Legilimens, Occlumens, Conviamens or Memory Manipulator; but that is nothing to a brain that is intruded upon. Any mind that is not yours is not your playing field."

"Mr. Yoon!" Professor Gaspar rounded up on him. "You're a natural, why don't you try reading my mind?"

Jeonghan nodded once and concentrated on weakening his shields, ignoring the babble of the minds around him to concentrate on the professor’s. Seconds later, from the feel of it, he got in successfully: the classroom has completely disappeared from his view and he was in the middle of a dense forest, standing in front of a gate not unlike the Trelleborgen.

_His thoughts must be behind this gate._

He braced himself and took a step towards the gate. Before he could even walk towards the gate, his foot sunk into the earth and the ground beneath him turned into quicksand, swallowing his mental being. He was fast disappearing into the ground; he wanted to scream and call out for help, and tried reaching for Jihoon who was next to him but nothing in this nightmare of a mind could stop his descent. 

Jeonghan fell back into his physical body with a ragged gasp. The classroom was darker, as if he had taken the cloak of the night from the Professor's mind and covered his eyes with it. His breathing felt heavy, and there were beads of cold sweat pooling on his face and dripping down his back. There was a tight grip on his right hand and he saw that Jihoon was holding it.

" _Hyung,_ are you okay?" Jihoon whispered to him. 

Jeonghan looked at Jihoon's hazy visage and saw the worry etched on the younger's face; he wanted to say something comforting but he couldn't muster the energy to speak. _This was different, being kicked out of Choi Seungcheol's brain was a kick on the butt. But Professor Gaspar's brain,_ he looked at the teacher who was now sitting on the desk _,_ smirking smugly, _it was like being dragged through hell._

"Sloppy!" Professor Gaspar called out, pointing at Jeonghan, his feet kicked at the desk, thumping to the beat of Jeonghan's impending migraine. "I would apologise for the way my defenses treated you, Mr. Yoon, but that is how a guarded brain acts for intruders. Mr. Chwe, please convey to the Matron that a wight-delivered vial of Draught of Peace is needed."

Vernon closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again he bowed to the professor. "It is done, Professor. Matron said she will send up a set of vials in a few minutes."

"Great, great. That's great progress on your conviamency by the way. You're a lot faster now," the professor commented, Vernon pinked at the praise and muttered a thanks. 

"And as for you Mr. Yoon." Professor Gaspar turned around to face him again. "Any ideas of what you've done wrong?"

Jeonghan shook his head, he couldn't even think beyond the harrowing experience, let alone look back at what he did. He averted his eyes from the professor as he felt hot shame creep up inside him for being singled out like this. "No, professor."

"Well then, any takers for my question?"

Blix raised her hand up just as a set of vials appeared in their midst. Professor Gaspar motioned for Jeonghan to take a vial of turquoise liquid and he downed it obediently. He could feel Blix watching him gulp the potion. 

"It's because he didn't ask for your permission, sir. Frankly, he deserved the pain he was in," Blix commented lightly as he replaced the stopper on the bottle once he was finished.

_Bitch._

Strom choked out a laugh which made everyone look at him, confused at his outburst. He waved his hands at them, playing it off as nothing but he eventually relented. "It's just that he," he pointed at Jeonghan, "-called her a bitch," he waved at Blix. "And it's just so loud in his head that it kind of jumped at me above the other thoughts, at least the thoughts of the non-occlumens here."

Jeonghan's eyes narrowed, but Blix huffed like it didn't bother her at all.

"Didn't he just read Jeonghan thoughts without his consent?" Jihoon asked, annoyance creeping into his voice. “Why is he unharmed?”

"Unharmed?" Professor Gaspar finished. "That is because Mr. Yoon has no defenses at all. His technique is sloppy, and he plodded through my brain. An untrained mind might feel a prick of presence in their heads, but an occlumens would see how heavy handed one is. Mr. Strom here, also a natural legilimens, has yet to master the art of smoothing his presence in the face of a fully consenting occlumens. He will still get a kick, a slap, or a shove here and there if he was too intrusive. And like he said, your thoughts were too loud to him. Can I assume, Mr. Yoon, you have had to learn to shield against others’ thoughts overwhelming you?"

"Yes sir, I did. I had to. I have only managed reaching out a few months back."

"That takes skill; a skill that Mr. Strom has not learned to master. Right now, his legilimency is strictly passive, receiving messages rather than seeking messages."

"Then if that's the case, Professor," Jihoon ventured. "What is the use of asking consent in legilimency when one cannot be sure if the legilimens is using his skill passively or actively? In the end, wouldn't they still both have access to the thoughts?"

"It's because you can never truly know the person whose mind you are trying to read," Vernon cut in, answering Jihoon's question instead. 

Professor Gaspar nodded. "You'll get a merit if you can clearly explain what consent has to do with it."

"Consent affects your reaction. A non-consenting person may have their thoughts at the forefront of their brain but that’s it, just what the person is thinking of at the moment and maybe not what you are looking for," the Durmstrang champion started. "They cannot and should not be trusted. Once you prod a non-consenting mind they will feel it, regardless of their ability to occlude, the non-consenting brain balks at the invasion. Thoughts would scatter in their brain as a result of a stimulus, it's a natural reaction of the mind."

"And for the legilimens it may seem like they're successful," he paused and then stared at Jeonghan. "Maybe the Legilimens could even use the thoughts against them… but the use of those thoughts, regardless of whether they yielded good results or not, can both lead and derail the Legilimens.” He took a breath. “Reading minds does not necessarily equate to understanding people. The cover does not always describe the book inside."

"Well put. That's a merit for you."

"And," Blix rushed to add while she eyed Jeonghan critically. "On top of the whole non-consent thing affecting the quality of thoughts and memories extracted from a person, it is also morally reprehensible. How would you feel if something that was completely in the privacy of your own brain, your very own safe space, suddenly came out in the open just because someone directed a probe on you?"

_Terrible,_ Jeonghan thought guardedly. _I would feel terrible, but I’ve never done that willfully._ He sensed Strom looking at him, and raised an eyebrow at the boy’s look of surprise.

"Bravo Ms. Blix." Professor Gaspar banished the mind maps to the wall and conjured two comfortable looking armchairs right in front of his desk, then jumped to sit behind his table and spread his arms. 

"Now that we have that cleared out, this is what you should expect from this class. Half an hour on private consultation and assessment of your skills with me while the rest of you pair up to work on skills learned from last class; those are usually the techniques we discussed. The next 20 minutes will be dedicated to today's debate topic, which I will reveal later on. You will debate solely based on your own logic; my library box is available for your research," he pointed his wand backwards and a huge leather box floated in. "Ten minutes for your debate proper, and the remaining half an hour would be for the lecture. _Vse Chisto?_ " 

A chorus of "Yes, Professor's" was heard as three, small, circular tables similar to what one would see in Ube Cafe back in Udo popped into existence. 

"A date?" Jihoon asked, finally unbending enough to look at Jeonghan.

"A mental date, I suppose," Jeonghan whispered back to him. 

* * *

Jihoon was secretly relieved. Watching Jeonghan- _hyung_ , one of the strongest and most collected people he knew, struggle and gasp for breath with eyes unseeing while the other four students and the professor do nothing had been a horrifying experience. 

The past classes he has had, the ones that were part of the so-called core curriculum, were just that, classes. They sat in them, studied and tried their best to keep up with the new system they were faced with. He didn't feel unwanted beyond the intimidating welcoming ceremony and the stories he has heard from his other peers. 

But today, witnessing Jeonghan be, yet again, singled out and made to suffer needlessly, it just dawned on him for the first time how much they were really hated here in Durmstrang, and that just made his talk with Soonyoung earlier become more significant. 

Plus it just brought up the question of why they were hated so; Blix and Chwe acted like it was more than a simple Tournament rivalry.

"All right then, lads and ladies, pair up and try to enter and defend your minds. Mr. Chwe and Mr. Strom, you lads have the honor of today's first consult!" Professor Gaspar exclaimed with both his thumbs pointing at himself. 

Jeonghan started to turn to face Jihoon so that they could muddle along through the exercise. 

Jihoon was just ready to ask him so many of the questions running in his head when the professor spoke up again. 

"Ah, ah. Mr. Yoon, you are with Ms. Blix and Mr. Lee, please practice with Ms. Sigmundsdottir."

A shadow loomed over them and Jihoon looked up to see that it was Ms. Blix standing with foot tapping impatiently. "Move, he's my partner. Your partner's over there," she said, jabbing a finger in the redhead's direction. 

Jihoon stood up and with a quiet "Bye, _hyung_ ", he made his way to Sigmundsdottir and plopped himself in front of the girl.

"Hi!' she said with a bright grin. "Welcome to Durmstrang!"

Jihoon stared at her. “Hello.”

"I had wanted to welcome you guys, but Wonwoo is a Skald on top of being a Champion, and there's no way Jarl Elektra would spend multiple people on one function," she said in explanation. "Plus, I saw you guys in Advanced Runes too, but between Wonwoo and the jealous chinky guy who follows you around, I couldn't exactly give a warm welcome."

Jihoon's eyes narrowed at the mention of Soonyoung. "He's not Chinese, he's Korean and you shouldn't even be using the word chinky at all. That’s a racial slur."

"Oh," Sigmundsdottir gasped, hitting her mouth repeatedly. "That was offensive wasn't it. Sorry, the chink comment just slipped out. I apologise, I'll be more mindful from now on."

“You just used it again,” Jihoon pointed out, frowning. "Shall we start the exercise rather?"

The girl sighed and clapped. "Ok, I'll read your mind and you do your natural occlumens thingy. May I have your permission to enter your mind, Mr. Lee?"

"You may try," he shrugged at her. 

She got her wand out and directed it at him. "Legilimens!"

A blue light grew on the tip of her wand as Jihoon felt a gentle nudging in his head. He looked at her; she still had her wand on him but her eyes were glazed over. There was a tickling at the top of his brain that felt like tiny feet walking on a ball pit.

_Professor Gaspar was right, it is an intrusion. Kinda annoying, it's like Soonyoung-hyung prancing along the reindeers in the -_

"Ooh, is Kwon Soon -- Soon-young the name of the guy who's always had eyes on you?" 

"What?" Jihoon startled. "What are you talking about?"

"Soonyoung?" She queried innocently. "He's in most of your thoughts, you know. Buried in that little head of yours."

Jihoon furrowed his brows at her. _All of my thoughts?_

"Sorry about the little comment, that must have been offensive too," she quipped, but she didn’t look apologetic.

"Not that," Jihoon waved her off. "How did you? How did you find that out? I was thinking of other things..."

"Pfft," she leaned back from him. Clearly their legilimency session was over from her side. "Your occlusion is nothing compared to Blix or Vernonie's yet. It's just a bunch of things you've learned. It is fun, though, digging through the alchemy, I didn't know you had that class in Hogwarts. We have that here too, but I guess I will see you there on Monday's session."

"Is that so?" Jihoon commented, his mind was still stuck on the part that his occlusion did not apparently work.

"Ah, stop thinking about it. Professor Gaspar is a good teacher, he'll surely have you improving your occlumency while you're here! Say, why don't you try casting Legilimens on me now?"

* * *

Across the classroom, Jeonghan gritted his teeth in pain as he glared at Blix. It was the third time he got shoved out of her brain and she sat there, looking at him like he was the dirt beneath her Durmstrang issued boots.

"No wonder Stallari Choi got his head messed up two years back," Blix sneered at him as she laid back on her seat. "I would have been fucked up too if you were always rooting through my brain." She leaned into him, cupping a hand around her mouth, she whispered theatrically. "Was that your plan all along? That would have probably worked better than actually "understanding" Stallari Choi." She said with air quotes around understanding.

Jeonghan tried hard not to roll his eyes, he was afraid they’d fall out with his headache. “I did not know I was a legilimens back then. I’ve said it repeatedly.”

"That doesn’t make it true. Are you sore?" The bitch asked with a smirk. "Here." She summoned a vial of the Draught of Peace and threw it to Jeonghan. 

It was only thanks to his quick reflexes that he was able to catch it. He unstoppered the bottle and covered it with his hands when he drank it. He felt instantly better, the after effects of the mental shoving disappearing, taking with it the anger he felt at the Durmstrang girl's words, but only temporarily. It didn’t last long; one look at her smug face and he was back to his sour mood.

"I am sure Stallari Choi handled himself perfectly well; he is still your Champion after all," he said diplomatically. He didn't know to what extent this girl knew about the last tournament, but it seemed like she knew enough to draw her own conclusions that he wouldn’t argue; what happened last time was not for this girl to know. 

"Of course he did, after all he is a worthy Durmstrang champion," she agreed. "But if I was in his shoes, I wouldn't have obsessed over the likes of you."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at that, _Obsessed? Is this bitch jealous?_ "Ms. Blix, forgive me, but have I trespassed on a sensitive matter? A relationship perhaps?"

Blix laughed derisively. "Oh wow. Wow. Wow. Not only do you read others’ minds without their consent, but you're poor at doing it too. Lucky for you, that bear does not hold a candle to my Raven."

_Oh so not a jealous bitch, just the overly loyal to a cause kind of bitch,_ Jeonghan thought as he watched her roll her eyes at him. 

“It’s amusing though, even after asking consent you’re so clumsy…” she started.

"Mr. Yoon! Private consultation time!" The professor called out.

He stood up, glad of their professor's timing. "Yes, professor. Stallari Blix, please excuse me."

She gave him a once-over, lifted her right hand up and put three fingers up. Then she lifted her left hand up and made a 0 out of it; she looked at her right hand then her left, then pinned him down with a stare and a cheeky smile. "Good luck, Mr. Yoon."

_Three- nil indeed. But then you’ve shared some secrets without my probing._

Jeonghan bowed to her and turned around to head for the professor's desk. 

Upon reaching the desk, he took a seat when the professor gestured for him to do so. As soon as he was sat on the comfy armchair, a faint buzzing sound filled his ears. He looked at Professor Gaspar quizzically. " _Muffliato_ is a charm, not a curse in construction isn't it?"

"You are sharp, Mr. Yoon. However, curses are not the only ones that can be embedded on an object and made to be triggered," Professor Gaspar explained. "So, I think you know why you were required to take this class."

"I have my guesses, sir," Jeonghan replied shortly. 

"Headmistress Mett and Jarl Elektra requested it. Plus there were complaints."

_Ah, so it was both scenarios then._

The professor shifted forward and rested his chin on his balled up hand. He looked at Jeonghan like he was a fascinating specimen worth studying. 

"You know, Mr. Yoon, directing a wordless legilimency probe on others is a very difficult skill. There are only a handful of adult wizards who can do it, and those who can do it, didn't set such a good example. That you can do it on the strength of only a year’s practice is remarkable."

Jeonghan nodded quizzically. He remembered reading about the Magical War in the late 90s that had led to the establishment of Hogwarts Udo. For most of the wizards identified to have used mental magic during the war, things didn't really end well for them.

"There isn't a clear precedent on the use of mental magic in Europe now. Both thoughts and memories are so fragile and inherently linked with a wizard's identity that relying on them for anything other than archiving is still an ongoing debate in most of the Western countries where it has been heavily documented. Also, pardon my ignorance, but I have not seen Eastern practitioners even record occurrences of Born Mental Magic practitioners. You’re the first one I’ve met knowingly."

Jeonghan kept a straight expression. "I don't understand. What are you saying, sir?" he asked, curious about what the professor is playing at -- was this counselling or a history lesson?

"I'm saying that I understand the struggle you have faced and will still face." Professor Gaspar paused. "You mastered a modicum of shielding and active legilimency out of sheer necessity. However, and I say this not to limit your growth or impede your journey but out of concern for your own health, the effects of magic go both ways, it affects both the caster and the one it is casted upon.” 

“Consent in this field is not only to protect the unprotected mind, but also to protect yours. It will take a toll on you, Mr. Yoon. "You may not feel it now, but there are repercussions that are yet to be fully understood. It is better to be safe than sorry."

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly. “I’m still confused, sir. Everyone here acts like I read minds willy-nilly. I didn’t _know_ I could until rumours from here accused me and I went for testing. My Headmistress will attest to that. On the sole occasion here that I read a mind without permission, it was to see if I really _had_ hurt someone intrinsically. I’ve not done so again.”

“Have you, Mr. Yoon?” Professor Gaspar regarded him curiously. “And what happened?”

“I believe that Radningar Chwe already shared the outcome with you, sir. But you are welcome to look if you wish.” Jeonghan felt the slight rudeness acutely; educators were to be respected, but his limit was fast approaching.

To his surprise Professor Gaspar favoured him with a small smile. “Not necessary, Mr. Yoon. However, to assist in your growth I will keep you paired up with Ms. Blix for the time being. I am sure you would be more comfortable studying with Mr. Lee given that you two seem to be close friends, but that would be the blind leading the blind. If Ms. Blix crosses the line, know that you can inform me. Sometimes, things like pride can make us lose sight of our senses and we do destructive things. It's only human."

Jeonghan didn’t share what he thought of that; the feeling of isolation since coming to Durmstrang didn’t make him eager to confide in anyone wearing their uniform. “Thank you, sir,” he said quietly, and bowed as he stood. “With your permission?”

* * *

_Afternoon, practice room, 15 October 2020:_

Seungkwan scooted into a classroom he had never seen before in _Stavkirk_ Freyr, barely making it in time before the door locked and disappeared. There were two other people in the class, a Japanese man in professor’s uniform and Seokmin, both happily talking at the front of the class. He hung back, unsure whether he should bother them, and looked around the room instead.

It didn’t look as old as some of the other classes, and there was a feel to it that was strange. It took him a moment to understand that some spell preserved sound perfectly. Some trick of the walls - wainscoting and wood - led the listener’s attention past posters and stacks of instruments to the bottom curve of the room where the two stood around a piano, heads bent and arms deep in its gut.

“Sing an A4,” the slim professor demanded.

Seokmin obliged, and the sound rang clear and true.

_He must have perfect pitch._ It sounded so good that Seungkwan bit his lip as it resonated in his being. He listened to them working through the full scale up to what sounded like an E6 before they stopped.

_If I had kept up singing, if I had gone to the muggle side and gotten training like my mother wanted, would my voice have sounded like this too?_

He felt so sorry for himself and nervous, that his head tilted down, fingers worrying at the opposite wrist as he waited.

“Seungkwan-ah?” came Seokmin’s voice. “You made it! Come down here and meet Professor Isei.”

Head snapping up again, Seungkwan essayed a hesitant smile and made his way down the slightly down-sloping corridor to bow to the slight Japanese man. “Professor Isei,” he said as seriously as he could. “I’m Boo Seungkwan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Mr. Boo,” Professor Isei said. “Seokmin here tells me that you sing as well. I’m surprised that I’ve not seen you in classes here yet.”

Seungkwan blinked. “Oh! Oh, no, I sing, but not like him. Not… not making a career of it. It was mentioned in Natural Magics that we can sing together to cast spells though, and I mentioned that Jihoon…” He broke off, fighting the habit of adding a ‘hyung’ on there. “Um, that we sing in the Frog Choir. He’s the leader, I’m one of the main singers there. And Soonyoung, the other boy there? He sings well too. But we do it, um, recrea…” He broke off again, frowning to try and remember the word.

Seokmin smiled his warm smile. “Recreationally?” he suggested in perfect English. 

Professor Isei nodded rapidly. “I understand, of course; that and Udo Hogwarts has no natural composition or music class, so it is understandable. Seokmin asked me to take a listen and help with a song. I wanted to do an assessment first. No help in selecting something that might not be suitable. I’ll do the same with Mr. Lee and Mr. Kwon.” He broke off to sit on the piano bench. “Now. Have you ever had your range professionally assessed?”

Seungkwan, sharing a look with Seokmin, merely shook his head mutely, and received a friendly pat on his shoulder from the Sunshine King… or whatever that nickname was the French kids called Seokmin. “No, sir. I’ve not warmed up either.”

“Hm,” Professor Isei said. “Then that is our first step.”

Fifteen minutes later Seungkwan was forced to admit that the warmup had been the most vigorous he had ever done; with Seokmin pacing him and the professor slowly helping him to stretch the chords he reached notes he hadn’t thought possible.

The professor’s fingers gentled into a melody he couldn’t identify; he didn’t look at the two students but at the opposite wall as he considered. “You don’t have Mr. Lee’s natural range,” he finally said. “But most of that is from training five-plus hours for the past ten years. Despite that you have an unexpected natural gift in the higher octaves, and with more training you’ll be able to stretch much higher. The problem, I think, will be in teaching you how to channel magic through it.”

“Professor?” Seungkwan said, confused. “I don’t understand. Am I not powerful enough?”

The professor grimaced and nodded to Seokmin. 

“It’s like this, Seungkwanie,” Seokmin said, straightening from his slouch against the piano. “When you cast magic through a medium other than a wand, your technique really becomes more about believing that you can. I have a sneaky suspicion you’re much stronger than I am magically, but the hiccup will be here, in your mind and heart.” He reached to touch Seungkwan’s forehead gently. “You might have to let go more than you’re comfortable with. It’s not based on raw power. Like Natural Magics, anyone can do it. Catching the knack of doing it, that’s the big thing.”

“You’re used to singing to direction and from what my colleagues tell me, avidly driven in both class and research,” Professor Isei added. “Very much an intellectual?”

Seungkwan sighed and slumped a tad. “Our Head Boy said the same,” he admitted grumpily. “That my problem with duelling isn’t not being able to do it, but being unable to chill out enough past all the options to do it without thinking. It’s not becoming reflex and muscle memory because I’m overthinking it.”

“I’ve seen him in duelling class,” Seokmin said to the professor, wrinkling his thin, sharp nose. “It’s true. It’s kind of pathetic. It’s there, you can see him practically glow, but his eyes just flick back and forth.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan complained. “I’m not that bad.”

Professor Isei smiled at that, blinking back to look at them. “Music isn’t intellectual as much as it’s mathematically definable unless, perhaps, you’re a producer or a composer. What I want you to do is go and find a song that makes you happy. It doesn’t matter if it’s a kid’s song, or Korean, or frankly a meme song, as long as it makes you happy. Vocal, non-vocal, it doesn’t matter. Are you familiar with the Patronus charm?”

Seungkwan nodded. “Notoriously difficult to master and cast, it evokes a quasi-tangible force to act as guardian against Dark Creatures,” he said promptly.

“Oya,” Professor Isei teased him. “Book perfect. And have you ever tried to cast it?”

Seungkwan shook his head vigorously, eyes wide. “No, isn’t it too difficult? It’s said that only very powerful wizards can.”

“Really? Have you tried?”

Seungkwan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut as he thought. “No,” he finally said, finally getting an inkling of what the professor was trying to tell him. “Not yet.”

Professor Isei gave a small smile at that. “When that day comes, you’ll be able to sing with Seokmin-ah here.”


	8. INFO: Tripartite Tournament

#  TRIPARTITE TOURNAMENT

Given the disastrous happenings of the 1994-1995 Triwizard Tournament and the subsequent war faced by Wizarding Britain, not to mention the depression and political upheaval afterwards, it was considered unwise to continue. Durmstrang and Beauxbâtons withdrew from any mentions of such a tournament happening again, citing not only the current situation but the need for massive changes. It was not until 2012-2013, when neared by the then-new Udo Hogwarts (a mere 3 years old at that time) that they considered joining in again, and the first tournament was held in 2014 under the new rules. 

The rules are as such:

  1. The Tournament would happen every two years, starting in 2014.
  2. There would be no binding contracts, and no involvement with That Damned Cup (as Headmistress Maxime put it).
  3. The format would shift to one that is open to those 15-17, or in the last three years of their secondary schooling.
  4. Each year would have its own heats, with points and items passed on to the next year, making the tasks more difficult or easier. Each event had a small prize attached for the victor, but nothing too much, as Beauxbâtons considers discussing money déclassé and Udo could really not afford it. Instead students are expected to compete for the honour of their schools. This year, there isn't even that.
  5. Each school is allowed two students per year to cover all events for that year. Whether one student covers one and the other four, or all students attend all events, there will only be one winner per school per year and one overall winner.
  6. The seventh-year students, culled from the best of the best, would only have one representative per school, with the prize being that the school that wins can end the cycle the next time it’s done.
  7. All year competitions consist of five events, each roughly analogous to the following subjects: Combat Magic/Dada/Duelling, Transfigurations, Potions, COMC and Charms.
  8. Other than the five students that participate, schools may also bring along a complement of up to fifteen students and staff to serve as support staff and onlookers. 



In the 2014 tournament Udo didn’t have a chance, and landed in third place. Surprisingly, despite Durmstrang’s strong desire to prove themselves on the international stage after the shadow that had fallen over them from previous Headmaster Karkaroff, Beauxbâtons took the honours. Durmstrang absolutely dominated the 2016 tournament, egos hurt from the previous time, and Udo still took third place. 

The 2018 tournament was an upset of note. Beauxbâtons and Durmstrang had looked forward to winning again, but instead were trounced by Udo. Special note needs to be made of Yoon Jeonghan, at that time a fifth-year Slytherin, who dominated his year in the majority of events, with a win each left for Durmstrang and Beauxbâtons. He was directly responsible for most of his school’s points. For Choi Seungcheol especially, the 2020 tournament will be a grudge match, as he badly underestimated the Udo and Beauxbâtons students, leading to him losing nearly all events (he won Combat Magics, but that’s it).

#  Tournament Rules

Owing to the previous Triwizard Tournament being a whole-ass disaster, the tournament was overhauled to fit in with a modern theme, and the Hogwarts portion moved to one of its franchised schools as the real Hogwarts might still be rebuilding/suffering under politics/has no money/whatever.

The tournament now has participation for three years of students (5th to 7th), with the honours to be won different from the 1000 Galleon prize of earlier. Each school has a mini-tournament in September in which students of different years battle against each other for the honour of representing their year. Selection is stringent and done by the teachers, with only those of an average of an EE or higher getting in -- many times only those with an aggregate of O or higher in Hogwarts terms.

The various rounds are each based around a ‘core’ subject to allow different talents to shine, such as transfigurations or COMC or charms.

Following their selection, the teams have a little bit of a break until October 11, when they leave for the first school (Durmstrang this time). Fitting in amongst the school life there, round 1 tasks are from 24-26 October, with each year having a day of their own to gather as many points as possible. The second round is from 4-6 January, with the schools leaving for the second school on 29 January (Beauxbâtons this time).

The third and fourth combat heats are 22-24 February and semifinals from 8-10 April. The finals, to which all points accumulate, occur 24-27 May. All years may participate freely in this if their points are over a certain level, and the student from each school that has the highest points is named champion of their school. They battle on the last day for the honour of their school being the host the next year.

Each event concentrates on a core subject from years 1-4, namely Transfigurations, Charms, Potions, Herbology and Defense. Despite that, students are encouraged to study as widely as they can with their electives, in order to prepare them as broadly as possible for this challenge.

There are no formal prizes, but the achievements are keenly followed by the general public and it looks good on their CVs. There’s also no death on the slate anymore, as it’s been reworked to be more in line with a student competition.


	9. CHAP :  The Tormentor

_Before Saga Training - Klockstenen Ground Floor Stavkirk Mimir, 16 October 2020_

Wonwoo watched Junhui rush through the packing of his things as soon as Madam Al Tayyeb uttered a dismissal. Unlike his Durmstrang peers who went through lessons without a single note being made on scrolls, he had noticed that Junhui kept a thick, leather journal that he wrote in for all his classes, most of which he shared with the Durmstrang Drang 6. Apart from the leather journal, the Hogwarts 6th year also kept a pouch of multi coloured pens. When he took a look at Junhui's notes, he was amused to find it colour-coded and littered with cat doodles and commentary. It was different from Wonwoo's meticulously annotated and three-coloured notes.

_Cute._

Wonwoo reached out to still Junhui's flying hands that were collecting the pens threatening to roll away from the table. 

"Wonwoo, what?" Junhui turned to him with a puzzled look on his face.

" _Accio_!" Wonwoo chanted, wand pointed at the pens. They stopped rolling and flew up to his outstretched palm. With all the pens accounted for, he handed them over to Junhui who muttered a sheepish thanks.

Junhui stuffed the pens in his pouch and stowed them away with his journal into his bag. He put the bag across his body and looked at Wonwoo shyly. "I should go first, I've completely forgotten about the Saga Training. I was too excited for this Spell crafting class that I forgot to pack my training clothes."

"Ah," Wonwoo mouthed, understanding dawning on him as he watched Junhui twiddle his thumbs as if waiting for permission to take his leave. 

"So...yeah, I'll see you ASAP!" Junhui said, posed to sprint to the Langhus. 

But before Junhui could even run out of the Klockstenen, Wonwoo pulled at his arm again. "You don't have to rush."

Junhui shook his head and gently removed Wonwoo's hold on his wrist. "I've only been here for two days, Wonwoo, but I know how you all follow a strict schedule. I'm not about to embarrass myself by being late just because I forgot something."

Wonwoo stood up. "You don't have to burden yourself, I'm leading the Saga Training anyway."

"You are?" Junhui blinked at him. 

Wonwoo nodded sheepishly. He could feel his cheeks flush as he brought a hand to rub at the back of his neck. It was strange. He was never the type to feel shy, nor was he the type to worry about coming across as arrogant; but with this Hogwarts 6th year, it's different. 

"Yes," he confirmed with a small smile. Junhui looked at him in such an adorably confused way that he had to clear his throat before he could explain. "The Saga Training for Upper Drangs 5 to 7 are rarely overseen by the Merkismathrs. They're usually led by the Stallaris or the Randningars of the year."

"Oh." 

"I wouldn't start the Saga Training without you," Wonwoo revealed though he looked away from Junhui. "And I would never subject you to humiliation."

"That's kind of you," Junhui replied with a thick voice. "But I still don't have training clothes and they're still at my room in the Langhus."

"Not to worry, I know a way," Wonwoo said with a smirk then offered his left hand this time. It reminded him of the Welcoming ceremony two days back when he first caught sight of the boy that made the Trelleborgen hum pleasantly. "Please allow me to show you a shortcut."

Junhui looked sceptical but took his hand nonetheless. He tugged at the Hogwarts student and soon they found themselves running towards Stavkirk Tyr.

"This is not the way to the Langhus," Junhui complained. 

Wonwoo let out a chuckle. "Trust me, this way is faster."

They skidded to a stop in front of the orange-roofed Shooting Range and Oval, Stavkirk Tyr's very own training grounds. Wonwoo looked inside and saw most of his Drang 6 peers getting ready and stretching. 

"I thought we were training at the Myrkvior grounds. Isn't that where the 5th years had their own remedial training?" 

"That's where Radningar Chwe decided to hold the training because it's the track usually reserved for the lower Drangs," Wonwoo explained before walking further away from Junhui. "Vernon thought it would be easier for others who are not used to daily training."

He made his way towards a corner of the shooting range where there was markedly less grass and Junhui followed him curiously. Wonwoo knelt down on the ground as he unsheathed his wand, knocking on the winter dry soil three times. Wordlessly, he cut his thumb on his wand and blood oozed out of the wound.

"Wonwoo, what the hell are you doing?" Junhui asked shrilly, as he dropped on his knees right next to him. The boy made a motion to grab for his hand but Wonwoo dismissed it with a quiet sshhh. 

With his bloodied thumb, Wonwoo drew the Ehwaz rune first and then followed it with a Nauthiz rune. "Would you give the Trelleborgen your blood?"

Junhui's eyes bulged at the request. "What?!"

"The Trelleborgen and its Nissers need your blood so that they can identify your room and take the training clothes you needed," Wonwoo explained, looking up at Junhui with a patient smile. "Otherwise, they'd take my blood and give us my training clothes instead."

Junhui stared at him with wide eyes, and now he seemed hesitant to touch him. 

"Isn't this blood magic?" Junhui whispered furtively.

Wonwoo's smile dropped. "It is…it is the only way we can get your training clothes."

Junhui didn't respond. It was the first time that Wonwoo ever recognised a crazed kind of fear in the boy's eyes. He swallowed. "The wights, the nissers, they are kind but they are not our servants. When we ask the Trelleborgen in our needs, they ask for magic and something in return."

"Does everyone do it?"

Wonwoo shook his head. "No, no one else does it. I found it out by accident."

"And have you always done it that way?"

Wonwoo nodded. 

"Blood magic is dark," Junhui started. "It's not just using energy, it’s binding a physical manifestation of yourself. Even muggles know how much blood can incriminate someone and you're willing to part with yourself like that on top of the Trelleborgen getting your magic?"

Wonwoo didn't have an answer for that but he knew one thing for sure, Junhui was wrong. _Blood magic is not dark. It's just another exchange,_ he wanted to say, but he couldn't let the words out.

"The runes you have there…" Junhui's gaze flickered to Wonwoo's scribbles. "They're blue and they want to reach out to your core, they're waiting, they want to be fulfilled."

"They are...pending."

"I see…" Junhui's gaze flickered back to Wonwoo. "I...I think I can still make it to the Langhus."

"Junhui," Wonwoo called out weakly as he took his thumb off the ground and started to stand up from his kneeling position. 

"I'll run as fast as I can," Junhui promised, stepping back before fully turning around to make his way to the Langhus. The Hogwarts student ran towards the Langhus with nary a look back and all Wonwoo could do was frown. He stared at Junhui's retreating back.

_Junhui would be late for sure; there is no way I could justify skipping out on giving punishment for it since it's expected of me to discipline the students in this training group._

He turned away as soon as Junhui was no longer visible and headed for the lockers where he put his training clothes. Sighing as he reached his locker, he hoped Junhui wouldn't take things wrongly later.

* * *

  
  


Soonyoung felt just a little bit lethargic and a whole lot regretful as he squinted at the uneven path in front of him. It was only 5:15 in the afternoon but the sky was already dark. He yawned, tiredly scratching his head as he walked towards the Myrkvior. 

"I shouldn't have napped, now my body just feels heavy…" he muttered. He wished he didn't have to go to Saga Training, but tonight was the first of the remedial Saga Training sessions and they have to show up and show off. As much as he would have loved to rest after the chaotic potions classes with Professor Hefel that had Jihoon storming away from him earlier because of an unidentified but harmless spillage; he had thought that he should make it up to the miffed Ravenclaw. After all, he had promised his 6th year half that together, they shall dominate and decimate the notorious Saga Training. 

_Why did I have to be so good?!_ He lamented, _I could be back at home just having a peaceful Potions class with Miss Aatif. Sure she was insane with the cleaning and tidying up, but I probably wouldn't have had Jihoon scowling at me the whole time._

He sighed, cringing at the memory of their disastrous potions class. At the end of the class, a fully Scourgified Jihoon was glaring daggers at him for having made their cauldron of Modified Incandescent Potion explode. _It wasn't as if I purposely broke any of Professor Hefel's rules,_ he groused. _Hell, even she encouraged me to put in Blast Ended Skrewt secretion in._

He scratched at his ears and kicked some stray pebbles; Jihoon's seething of "What an idiot!" echoed in his head even after his restful nap.

"Soonyoung hyung!"

Soonyoung looked up from his kicking spree to come face to face with Beauxbaton's very own Ray of Sun and Promise of Beauty. They came up to him with twin smiles of warmth looking like pop idols in their Beauxbatons monogrammed, ink blue tracksuits. "Hey Seokmin and the beautiful Ms. Ghyslaine!"

Seokmin pouted on approach while Ghyslaine just giggled. "How come I don't get a handsome or a beautiful too? I'm heartbroken," Seokmin asked in a sweet voice with matching fluttering eyes. 

Soonyoung snickered. "Of course, of course," he played along. "And you Mr. Lee are the most amazing. Even the sunset of the North cannot compare to you."

"Oh hyungie!" Seokmin tittered, as he forcefully pushed Soonyoung away, almost making the sixth year stumble. Soonyoung, not one to be outdone, pushed back, equally forceful and soon a shoving match ensued.

Ghyslaine just rolled her eyes at the antics of the two Korean boys. "Boys, boys, stop it. You two are embarrassing to be with."

Soonyoung paused his shoving and grinned at Seokmin who was gearing up for another push, but the impatient tapping of Ghyslaine's boots stopped them both. They straightened up and he flashed the witch an apologetic beam, his eyes crinkling along. 

Seokmin slung an arm around him and walked them away from her. It had Soonyoung guffawing as Seokmin pressed on with a rant, leaving an exasperated Ghyslaine behind with a joking complaint of how witches could never appreciate his quirky brilliance. He cooed at Seokmin and promised him that things shall be fine because the boy deserved all the appreciation for his brilliance to which the Beauxbatons boy just smugly lit up at. 

Soonyoung couldn't quite believe it, but in the past few days, he has found a kindred spirit in the bright Beauxbatons boy. He still had a best friend and platonic soulmate in Junnie, and brothers in the Housekeeters and Seungkwannie, but Seokmin felt like another version of him; just taller, tanner and with a nicer voice. 

It was only when Ghyslaine was able to catch up to them that Soonyoung realised that they were heading to Stavkirk Tyr instead of Myrkvior; and he stopped in his walk. "Wait, why are we headed to Tyr? Isn't Saga Training in Myrkvior?"

"They changed it in our schedules," Ghyslaine answered. "Didn't you take a look at your table?"

Soonyoung shook his head slowly. "No, last I looked was around breakfast. It was still Myrkvior then."

"I wonder why it was changed so suddenly. It was still the same at lunch time but it's a good thing I looked at my table after our Potions class and Ghyslaine came and confirmed that hers changed as well," Seokmin chimed in. 

Ghyslaine shrugged. "Regardless of the reason, I think this just means we should start checking in on our tables for all our classes."

Soonyoung hummed in agreement. This whole school was odd and as he looked up at the orange roofs and banners embroidered with wolves, he found himself strangely missing Udo. He wondered if Jihoon knew about the room change though, did someone even inform him? The boy was a genius through and through, but once he became interested in something, he would rarely surface for anything else; and Soonyoung presumed that Mental Magic classes would be plenty interesting for his co-Champion.

In the end, Soonyoung didn't have to worry about Jihoon getting lost because in the middle of all the beige and grey Durmstrang students stood the Ravenclaw in all his blue and bronze glory. 

"Jihoonie!" Soonyoung can't help but squeal out as he jogged towards that Ravenclaw wizard. 

Jihoon turned around with an ever present scowl at hearing his name butchered, but he wasn't the only one. Behind him peeked a sickly-looking redhead girl that was smiling brightly. She stepped out from Jihoon's back and walked towards Soonyoung, meeting him halfway.

"Oh my, you must be Kwon Soonyoung!" She said as she intercepted Soonyoung's path to Jihoon. 

Soonyoung just stared at her, perplexed. "Uh, yes I'm Kwon Soonyoung. You are?"

"Not important!" she snapped at him. "But you, you are the star of Jihoonie's-"

She was cut off with the clearing of Jihoon's throat. "Miss Sigmundsdottir."

"Oopsie, sorry Mr. Lee."

If Jihoon's stare could cut, the Sigmundsdottir chick would have been thinly filleted. Soonyoung felt a mix of amusement and annoyance at the thought of Jihoon being irked enough to pay the Durmstrang girl his patented death glare and the fact that the girl just called Jihoon, Jihoonie _._ He sniffed at them both. 

_Only I can call him Jihoonie._

Before Soonyoung could even ask _Jihoonie_ how he had come to know that the Saga Training was moved, an echoing pounding sounded to their left. They all turned to find Skald Jeon Wonwoo standing in the middle of the running oval, near where the archery targets were located. The Durmstrang Skald was dressed in an ash and charcoal ensemble with a purple boar pin on his chest. 

"The Saga Training shall begin," Jeon Wonwoo said in a _Sonorous_ -enhanced voice. "Please gather here so I can explain today's warm up and programme."

The throng of the Durmstrang students started moving towards Jeon Wonwoo; Soonyoung and Jihoon with the still unknown Durmstrang girl followed suit.

"I didn't know he would be leading us in Saga Training," Seokmin commented from his right, making Soonyoung jump a bit at the sudden closeness of the voice. "Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you."

"Neither did I," Ghyslaine chipped in. "Did you know?" 

Soonyoung pouted thoughtfully, he was about to answer when Jihoon spoke up; apparently the question was not directed at him.

"I had a thought they would, after all the fifth years did have Champion Chwe leading them."

"There's rarely a Merkismathr running our Saga Training classes; the professors only step in when it's for the younger Drangs or if they don't think the appointed student to lead is doing well," the redhead quipped from beside Jihoon. "Although, it's always been Wonwoo leading us since Drang Fifth because he's so good at it. I surmise he'd lead us in Drang Seventh too, after all he's in talks of being the next Stallari for Mimir."

_Oh, so he's like Choi Seungcheol level of good._

When they reached the targets and got closer to Wonwoo, Soonyoung felt that something was off. By this time, the sun has fully set, reminding him that the nights are longer here than the days. Torches were lighting up by pairs, slowly illuminating the crepuscule of the skies. He looked around, almost spinning as he examined the crowd of students in the vespers. "Wait, Jihoonie, have you seen Jun?"

Jihoon shook his head slowly at him, eyes widening at the realization that they were a third short of their 6th year party. "I haven't. I came straight to this class with her," the Ravenclaw pointed at the redhead. "She was the one who let me know that the location changed. Wait, does Jun know that? What if he's in the Myrkvior? Isn't the Myrkvior dangerous at night?"

Jihoon's voice was surely getting higher with each question and Soonyoung just thought it was too adorable to be so concerned over his best friend. _He does care…_

"Why are you smiling? Your best friend is missing in a foreign school!" Jihoon punctuated his frustration with pokes to Soonyoung's chest, right on top of his Gryffindor embroidered patch.

"Ow! Calm down!" Soonyoung said as he flitted away from Jihoon. _This boy pokes hard_ , he thoughtfully rubbed at his left chest. "Maybe Jun is running late, but it's unlikely that Jun wouldn't know where the class will be. After all, he had a class with Wonwoo just before this. They share Spellcrafting and Ritual-making remember?"

Jihoon squinted at him and then looked at the Durmstrang Skald standing up at the front. "If they were in class together, then why is he here and why is Jun, most definitely not here?"

"That's why I asked if you saw him. Seokmin and I didn't run into him," Soonyoung muttered annoyedly. _Was Jihoon honestly still mad?_

"Silence!" Wonwoo commanded in an authoritative voice that had Soonyoung and Jihoon shutting their mouths immediately, saving themselves from another bickering. "Tonight's warm up is 2 laps on the track, that's half a mil and should be enough to get us started. Once you are all back-"

The Radningar didn't even get to finish what he was saying because everyone else, including Soonyoung turned around to find Jun running as fast as he could towards them. 

* * *

  
  


Wonwoo stopped in his speech when he saw a black and yellow blur careening towards them. He squinted at it, wondering what it was and when it skidded to a halt and it was none other than Junhui. 

"I'm sorry for being late," the Hogwarts student apologised with a bow as he joined his friends; the 6th year champions from Hogwarts and the two Beauxbatons champions with a surprising Durmstrang face. 

At Junhui's apology, Swedish murmurs arose from the Durmstrang contingent and Wonwoo could tell that they were already complaining about the apparent disrespect for time, and the audacity of having interrupted someone who was talking. His classmates were eyeing him expectantly and Wonwoo knew that they anticipated a punishment. He has never been a harsh leader, and while he did call out offenders in their training classes, he has always been fair in handing out appropriate corrections for infractions. He looked at Junhui who was surrounded by his friends and recalled his promise.

_No, I am not going to be an asshole about it._

He cleared his throat instead and nodded meaningfully towards Junhui. "As I was saying, 2 laps on the track for a half a mil run tonight. You have 15 minutes to complete it. Once you are all back, we will be doing Parkour training. Is anyone familiar with Parkour training?"

A few of his Durmstrang classmates raised their hands, mostly the ones coming from half-blood families, and he noted that Champion Kwon and Junhui were also familiar with it. 

"Right, for those that do not know, parkour is a muggle sport," there were some mumbles on the word muggle but a glare from him shut everyone up.

"Professors Dorka, Pfeiffer and Bloch approved the idea of a terrain based training and have crafted this for us," he held up a thick disc that looked like a miniature version of the track. He waved his wand and the disc floated up in front of him. “ _Lacessere_!” 

Immediately the disc grew thicker, blocks of uneven heights sprouted up on the surface of the disc, and everywhere around them, the track transformed into an exact copy of the disc. Wonwoo has seen the Provocation spell at work before, but seeing the effects be translated to Durmstrang grounds in real time was breathtaking. He looked around and saw the admiring and intrigued faces of both his classmates and the visitors alike. He felt pride course through his veins; this little playground was a product of months of research and practice. 

He caught sight of Junhui with his mouth agape and he felt the upper corner of his lips just lift a bit. There was wonder painted all over Junhui's face and he was just so curious to find out what the synesthete was seeing. Sometimes, Junhui would come up to him and point at the places where magic poured forth and describe all the patterns, the colors and the glyphs he sees and ever since then, Wonwoo was hooked. There was this guy that the Wights and the Trelleborgen were right about, Junhui was a guy who saw the world differently.

" _Finite Incantatem_."

The track and the disc alike reverted back to their original levelled contour. He shoved the flat disc in his pocket and cleared his throat. "Your 15 minutes run starts now."

The Durmstrang students started the run with indifference; used to the tracks and the conditions of Saga Training after almost 8 years of doing this kind of physical activity for almost 10 months out of a year. He took a look at the visitors who were hanging back a bit and have not started running, letting the Durmstrang crowd disperse first. They congregated by the tail end, doing leg stretches while they waited for their turn. 

Wonwoo has heard from Hansol that there have been complaints from the Hogwarts representatives in the Drang 5th’s own Saga Training session, but the ones in his class did not look like they were about to make a fuss. In fact, they looked like they were having a strategy meeting, the two Champions visibly bickering and talking over each other while Junhui nodded along. 

"Mr. Wen!" Wonwoo called; the Hogwarts students stopped their arguing and even the Beauxbatons representatives turned around to look at him, but he ignored them all to focus on Junhui. "Please come forward."

Almost all of his Drang 6 classmates were already on the running track and the visiting champions were gearing up for their own run. Junhui waved them away, urging them not to wait for him and jogged towards Wonwoo instead. 

"I told you you would run late, didn't I?" Wonwoo asked with a grin as soon as Junhui was within earshot.

Junhui rubbed his neck sheepishly at the teasing. "I didn't run fast enough…"

"Well, Mr. Wen, it's a good thing then that you will have more practice running," Wonwoo teased the 6th year.

Junhui tilted his head. "Additional laps?"

Wonwoo nodded. "Just a third lap, it would be unfair if your infraction went uncorrected after all." 

"Ahhh, you're right. Fair enough," Junhui easily agreed. "Are you running with us then? Doing the full two laps?"

"Yes, but I will run with you on your last two laps. Do you think you can finish it in under 15 minutes?"

"Of course, I am not Hogwarts' Quidditch MVP for 2018 and 2019 for nothing!" Junhui smirked at him before the boy turned around, shouting cheerily. "See you on my second lap!"

Wonwoo just smiled as he, for the second time today, admired Junhui's running figure. The sixth year has quickly caught up to his friends and looked fit to overtake some of the Durmstrang students. When Junhui was well within the throng of the grey clad students, the two Hogwarts champions soon followed him. In the midst of the running grey blob of his fellow Drang 6th were blots of red, yellow and blue that were gaining speed and surely looking to lead the entire pack. It only reminded Wonwoo that these visitors were chosen specifically because of their ability and were not in Durmstrang to merely exist. 

Two in particular were noteworthy, Junhui, of course, and his best friend; the 6th year champion, Soonyoung. He recalled Junhui saying that most of the delegates were proficient Quidditch players, Soonyoung included, and that they wouldn't balk at the oft dreaded Saga Training and now Wonwoo saw how true that was. The two looked like they were having fun at the front of the pack, completely in pace with one of Drang 6th's fastest runners; the petite Alexa Niffenegger, and eventually outrunning her in just a few seconds. The other Hogwarts Champion, Lee Jihoon, was not far behind and he was trailed by the Beauxbatons champions who in their navy blue outfits, could have been mistaken for as Jihoon's schoolmates. 

The leader's lot was almost at their second lap, clocking in at nearly 5 minutes; and Wonwoo was preparing himself to join the class for his own warm up as he saw Junhui getting closer when a throat was cleared behind him. He turned around and he could immediately feel his jaw clamp shut at the person in front of him. It took monumental effort for him to follow the Durmstrang Codex for Respect and greet the newcomer.

"Merkismathr Afanasnieva, a pleasant evening," Wonwoo said as he bowed deeply in front of her.

"Skald Jeon, the evening is too early to be deemed pleasant isn't it?" The merkismathr asked in a thick drawl. 

Wonwoo did not respond, instead he straightened up and took every inch of confidence he felt in his body. "Is there anything I can help you with Professor?"

The professor hummed, ignoring his question and walked around Wonwoo instead. She stood in front of him facing the running students and with her back to him as she observed each student that passed by. When Soonyoung and Junhui passed them in a breeze, Wonwoo saw her wand arm twitch before she turned around to look at him with an unctuous grin. He felt his stomach churn.

_It's always that face, that same face you make when you see something fun._

And it wasn't a good sign _._

_It never was fun._

Merkismathr Afnasnieva was a short and solidly built woman with perfectly symmetrical facial features thanks to her fractional veela heritage. She was the only Magical Languages professor that Durmstrang had for the past thirty years , including the years when Karkaroff had been the Jarl. Though she only taught one subject and was loosely affiliated with Stavkirk Mimir; she was the undisputed and self-appointed Head of the Merkismathrs, overlooking the student body's fitness and sports involvements. She had a reputation for pitiless saga training and here she was, looking up at Wonwoo with a penetrating gaze. 

Wonwoo was sweating under her wordless scrutiny; she usually handled the training for Drang 4th and Drang 3rd and never really cared about the Saga Training for the years that were led by students, but her presence in this class was alarming. Her sessions were notorious and widely agreed to be more like ordeals than fitness inclined to keep the students agile. 

Professor Afnasnieva has taken it as her personal mission to see to it that no Durmstrang student was lacking in strength and power. She was the kind of professor who called her best students, the ones who survived her and have been known to pass on her illiberal techniques, as the ones forged in fire. Wonwoo had done well in her Saga Training classes but he would never call himself forged; it was a baptism in fire but he was not shaped out to be one of Afanasnieva's weapons. Not after everything she has done and she knew that well enough.

"Skald Jeon, would you mind reminding me of the goals of Saga Training?" she asked in a sugary voice that chilled him.

"The goal of Saga Training is to ensure that a Durmstrang student's physical capability would never be a hindrance. Powerful feats can only be accomplished by a body that is capable of surviving even in the direst circumstances," Wonwoo recited listlessly, carefully not looking at the professor. The words were familiar and tasted rancorous in his mouth. In the last few years, the Durmstrang Codex for Strength grew twisted and marred after every backbreaking and dispiriting Training session with her.

"Perfect recitation, as expected of Mimir's top student. Had you not recited it, I would have thought you had forgotten what Saga training is for."

"I haven't forgotten, Professor." 

He hasn't forgotten the way he broke down at being Imperiod in Drang 4th; commanded to shoot at his Drang mates as part of Professor Afnasnieva's so called reality based training. Nor has he forgotten the fact that Bohyuk, his younger brother, faced the same approach just last year. He watched her take stock of the Training Grounds and his grip on the Lacessor Disc tightened.

“What are these students running around for?” she asked, eyes following the second lap of the students. By this point, Wonwoo has completely missed the chance to join in and run. “This is not Drang 3rd. Surely you have prepared something more age appropriate than running tracks.”

“I have, Professor, this is just their warm up.”

“Warm ups do not happen in reality,” the professor sniffed. “What have you prepared?”

“It’s an obstacle course that is based on-,” Wonwoo started explaining, but she already waived it off.

“I have heard rumours of your little project with Nix and Rasmus. They said it would be a brilliant piece of magic. I want to witness it for myself, however I do not have high expectations given Dorka’s involvement.”

Wonwoo kept mum, Professor Afanasievna’s contempt for Professor Dorka and her ilk was well known.

“In any case, I am excited to see what you have prepared for us, Skald Jeon, though I am sure that having your classmates warm up for this long is insulting. Unless of course you are just being overly accommodating to our esteemed guests.” She turned away from him, whipped out her wand, and waved at her throat with the motion for a Sonorus. “Warm up is over!”

The students slowed down their run, confused at the sudden change of instruction. One by one they made their way back to the middle of the training grounds, his Drang 6th classmates bowing to Afanasievna in acknowledgement. Junhui and his friends were the furthest away so they returned belatedly but Wonwoo could tell that they were bewildered at the change up as they neared.

"Good, you're all here. I am sure Skald Jeon showed you what you will be doing for today's training?" Professor Afanasievna asked, throwing Wonwoo a glance. "Is it just for today? Have you explained it to them?"

"I was going to show it to them after their warm up."

"No time like the present."

Wonwoo cleared his throat. "Like I said earlier, we will be adopting a different style of Saga Training. Where before we used to do our training with the goal of progressing our strength and endurance, the parkour system would allow us to test it."

He took out the Lacessor disc and enchanted it, turning both the disc and the running track around him into a multi-level playing ground. From the corner of his eyes he could see the professor roll her eyes at the display; he ignored it anyway. The moment she knew that the half-blooded Professor Dorka was involved, she had already made up her mind; there was no point to getting pulled into her petty grudges. 

"This is a different track to the one I have demonstrated before and this is the track you will run today. Parkour training requires you to get to another place without using assistive techniques. In short, this course will be testing your physical prowess. Magic cannot be used. No flying, no blowing up, no conjuration of ropes and ladders, and no apparating. Understood?" 

Wonwoo looked at each and everyone of his classmates; he smiled, satisfied once everybody nodded their agreement. He turned to face a 75 degree ramp that was around 2.5 meters tall. "That is where you will start; climb it, jump over it, I don't care as long as you go over it vertically. If you try to be clever about it and go around it, you will only be brought back to the start."

"Past the ramp, you will face different configurations. Slopes, bars, mounted steps, and other levels; the goal is to never touch the ground. Once you touch the ground, you will be sent back to the start." He turned around and pointed at a series of increasingly tall poles with rounded platforms on top. "See that 3m tall pole? That will be the finish line. Step on it and you'll be back here. You all have 50 minutes to finish this without magic. Any magical interference will not only guarantee you a trip back to the ramp but also mess up the whole course that will put your safety at risk. Questions?"

There were none. 

"Good. Get going!" Wonwoo barked. Immediately his classmates ran for the slope; the ramp was wide enough to get 8 or so people climbing at the same time but he could see them struggling. He smirked when he saw them try to walk up the steep ramp, shaking his head. The incline was as sharp as a propped up ladder, using the legs won't be enough.

_That's not going to work,_ he thought as he spied the 6th year Hogwarts champion, the Kwon guy, taking several steps back from the ramp. _Not even getting a headstart would make you clear this ramp. I know it, I've done it so many times and-_

Kwon Soonyoung sprinted towards the ramp, gaining speed and enough momentum to reach almost all the way to the top before he got a hold of the ledge with both his hands and used it to pull himself up over the top of the incline wall, albeit a little rougher than his chic ascent. 

Wonwoo's eyes widened. _That...that was some display of pure power, strength and perfect timing. I couldn't even do that, not on my first try at least._

The surface of the ramp was spelled rough enough to ensure no one would slip and crack their head open; but it would still be smooth enough to pose a challenge to run on with gravity working against them. The only way Kwon Soonyoung would have been able to stay on the ramp long enough to propel himself to the other side was an oxymoron; contact time on the surface should be as short as possible in exchange for staying on the surface longer. No amount of physical strength could turn someone nimble and light-footed which was the reason why most of his Drang mates were markedly struggling. They have seen Soonyoung do it and they were all quick to adopt his method but they just weren't fast enough. 

The Hogwarts champion was leading, two six-meter tall obelisks in, on the first series of jumps that he had to do to get to the next slope. This time though, he looked cautious, his eyes narrowed in assessment to get to the next obelisk without falling. The next to succeed on the slope was none other than the second half of the Hogwarts champions, Lee Jihoon. He too, adopted Soonyoung's method and after three tries, was able to clear the ramp. 

_Of course he would have an easier time,_ Wonwoo thought, _he's lithe._ He looked at Junhui and unlike the others who were sprinting and failing to climb up the incline, he was standing still, eyeing the ramp quizzically. Junhui walked a few steps back and kept swinging his left leg up and down , only to step forward and do the same swinging on his other leg.

_What are you up to Junhui? What are you seeing?_

Then Junhui jumped back before he ran straight to the wall, as if he was attacking it, a huge difference to Soonyoung's sprint up the slope. His left foot was sticking at almost half the height of the incline long enough for him to jump up and move his right leg up, akin to scaling the entire wall before he stretched a single arm up to catch the ledge. He dangled from the edge for a bit, likely a result of his momentum before he tightened himself up and kicked one long leg up to catch the top of the incline. With one hand he swung himself up to the top of the ledge and caught himself just in time to avoid knocking into Lee Jihoon who must have waited for him at the top platform before climbing up to the next level where the obelisks stood in waiting.

_Soonyoung showed sheer dumb luck with strength and power. Jihoon showed grit and quick learning. But Junhui, Junhui just trounced them all._ Wonwoo thought as he watched Jihoon clap the tall 6th year's back in congratulations. _That was the technique of the truly skilled, no excess energy wasted, just pure confidence in his skill. If there was any sign of Junhui being less than perfect-_

There was a scoffing sound and Wonwoo whipped around to see Professor Afanasievna staring heavily at the three Hogwarts students who were making their way through the obelisks. 

"How dreadfully mundane," she commented lightly. She turned to him with a full-lipped smile but her eyes were sharp. "Getting rid of magic? Are you training our students for the life of a Squib?"

_And it has started._

"This training programme has been approved and is -"

"Pathetically scornful." She waved her wand and Wonwoo cursed himself for completely forgetting the fact that she had a proclivity for silencing students. "Magic is a gift, we are blessed by magic and here you are, Skald Jeon, mocking our existence by going as low as resorting to Muggle training," she seethed at him.

"I heard there were two magical marauders here. You must know Skald Jeon, how truly disappointing it is that there would be such programmes to indulge people who steal magic from those who should have it as their birthright," she faced away from him to look back at the track. Wonwoo followed her gaze and balled up his fists as she zeroed in at the Hogwarts trio with a malevolent grin. "It seems you and your brother share the same predilection for the undeserving."

Professor Afnasnieva pointed her wand at the fifth obelisk that Soonyoung was just about to jump onto. 

"Bombarda!"

The fifth obelisk crumbled in the middle of Soonyoung's jump and Wonwoo had to close his eyes but the shrieks and yells of his classmates are still audible. He opened his eyes to see the other obelisks also start to falter and disintegrate, even the ones holding Jihoon and Junhui. His hand itched to produce a levitating charm for the three of them, but he could not move his arm. He couldn't unsheathe his wand, all he could do was watch the three Hogwarts students fall slowly, like a cruel, magical oil portrait; viscous and frozen in frame.

Professor Afnasnieva turned back around and faced him; there was a nefarious shadow on her face as the Lacessor track continued to disintegrate, reacting against the external magical force. Not only were the obelisks fast disappearing but the sloped wall that majority of the students were stuck at started splitting in half. Most of his Drang mates, and the Beauxbatons contingent were quick enough to jump out of the range of the fracturing implement, but he couldn’t sigh in relief since the Hogwarts students were still falling. Wonwoo just couldn’t recall what the highest possible fall could be for a human to survive it unscathed. He could not even remember what were the parameters Professor Pfeiffer had set and limited for the height. 

_Was it 6 meters for the fall to be safe? Or was it 6 meters for humans just to barely survive?_

There was a pull from his earlier offering of blood on the earth; a tight stretch in his veins and a twisting in his core. It longed to call out to the Nissers, the Trelleborgen itself, to anything that could possibly save Junhui and his friends. And yet, his blood was tethered to the wrong runes.

"Take notes, Skald Jeon. Disaster is what you get in getting involved with those whose magic do not fully flow within their veins. This little track of Dorka's is proof enough, isn't it?" Professor Afnasnieva cracked a smile as she turned away from him, delighting in the unfolding chaos. “Thieves can only steal but they would never know how to use their loot, Skald Jeon, always remember that.”

“And they,” Afanasievna continued breathily. “They deserve punishment for their crimes. Trust that this would not be such a loss.” 

Like a band snapping after release, Wonwoo finds himself thawed out of his frozen state. He gripped his wand hard, torn between cursing such a disgusting bigot of a teacher and doing something to help his new found friends. He looked at her eldritch figure and forced himself to calm down. 

_No, shattering her entirety would not serve me at all._

A softening charm was on the tip of his tongue; Wonwoo itched to cast the spell nonverbally when a call from Soonyoung was heard.

“Ball up! Ball up! Ball up!” Soonyoung kept shouting over and over again in Korean. The Hogwarts Gryffindor champion maneuvered himself in the air, pulling his legs as close to his body as possible. He locked his arms around his knees and tucked his head inside before turning on his side, dropping onto the track and rolling a little bit onto the ground. 

Jihoon and Junhui followed suit. Jihoon had an easier time folding into himself and Sooonyoung quickly rolled in Jihoon’s direction to catch the other Hogwarts champion using his entire body. Junhui, on the other hand, was only able to minimize himself so much but thankfully, the Beauxbatons champion Seokmin came sliding out of nowhere to help cushion Junhui’s fall.

The four stood up shakily, dusting themselves off as one by one, they were approached by Wonwoo’s more compassionate Drang mates. A sigh was palpable in the night air, everyone simultaneously released the tension they held in witnessing such a fall; and yet he still could not quite catch his breath, not yet, not when Afnasnieva was still here. 

With a crude slicing motion of her wand, the professor broke the silencing spell. Wonwoo felt his voice rush at him, and then he knew that the release from the S _ilencio_ was not intentional on the professor’s part. That display has shaken her enough to lose her hold on the spell; he could not resist smirking insolently. “You’re right professor, there isn’t any loss.” 

She twisted around with slaughter promised in her eyes. "See to it that your Saga Training programme is up to par, Skald Jeon. And dismiss your classmates early, they deserve a respite from disappointments tonight.”

He surveyed the training grounds; the spell that Professor Afanasievna launched at the track was not at all that strong, but the entire track being a magical construct was just too weak to hold up against a concentrated effort. His Drang mates scattered throughout the area; a third of them looked on at the visitors, another third was watching him expectantly, and the rest had eyes following the Professor's departure. 

With a Sonorus to his voice, he dismissed the class. Majority of his classmates headed past him and straight into the Langhus as he stood looking at his remaining Drang mates huddled in the middle of the track, close but not quite to the visiting students; with the exception of Sigmundsdottir, Niffeneger and de la Vallière who were fussing over the three Hogwarts students and Champion Lee.

Escaping everyone’s notice, Wonwoo knelt down on the ground and pulled out a small patch of grass before biting his thumb hard enough to draw blood. He drew the same runes he showed Junhui earlier and traced them with his wand, asking the Trelleborgen wights to bring some calming potions and shock-relief potions. In just a few seconds a tinkling was heard and beside him appeared one of the infirmary wights.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly as he took the proffered vial set. The infirmary wight shook its head, bowed down and disappeared with the sound of the bells.

Wonwoo stood up and walked towards the remaining group of Durmstrang students and the visitors. He looked at the vial set in his hands and snorted. 

_No, this would not be enough. Not at all._

* * *

  
  


_Morning, Saga training grounds- Myrkvior, 19 October 2020:_

One day floated after the other in Seungkwan’s reckoning as his situation at Durmstrang worsened. The Durmstrang students were openly disrespectful of him in class and in hallways, and he no longer thought of waking up to have a great day -- all he cared about was being able to run a little further in the morning, last a little longer, think a little faster. He knew his friends were worried, even those he had made here, like Minghao and Seokmin, but he simply didn’t have it in him to dredge up any effort to reassure them.

He stumbled to a halt as they did the last of their calisthenics and did the stretches on auto-pilot. He didn’t realise they had ended until Mingyu came to drag him up mid-stretch, but surcease and a very hot shower didn’t seem to be on his docket for the morning: his tallest friend looked unwontedly serious as he pointed towards a forbidding red-clad figure.

“Seungkwanie,” Mingyu whispered. “Stallari Choi wants to see you. Just… just hold out, alright? Remember, you ran the full ten, he can’t yell at you for anything!”

Seungkwan managed a wisp of a smile and nodded, stretching his sore body until something low in his back clicked. He waited until everyone had left before he made his way to the bear-furred Durmstrang student. “Stallari?” he said hesitantly. “You wished to speak to me?”

Being looked at by Choi Seungcheol was very uncomfortable; he wasn’t much taller than Seungkwan but certainly wider and more muscular, and he had adopted a fearsome frowning mien he normally pointed at any Udo Hogwarts students. “I did, yes. Walk with me, please.”

Seungkwan’s first few steps were less that and more hobbling, but his pace evened out slowly as they made their way past the grim sentinels that marked the end of the Myrkvior forest and the end of his morning torture. In fact, their path was longer than he had thought, circling around to Stavkirk Tyr before they entered a building again, moving through wood-panelled corridors until Seungcheol entered a small room and pointed him towards a chair.

The seat, objectively speaking, wasn’t that much, but it felt like heaven beneath Seungkwan’s butt. He clasped his hands between his thighs, tried not to jitter and bit the inside of his cheek. To one side the smallest fire he had ever seen glowed, casting the room in an orange light.

“I hope you don’t mind if we converse in Korean, I don’t have much of a chance to practice and I think the conversation will be easier for you as well.”

Seungkwan swallowed with dread. It was an odd feeling really - he had thought he could bear everything the Durmstrang students threw at him - but the increased fear now, with this powerful leader sitting across from him, taught him differently. “If you wish, Choi-ssi.”

Seungcheol sat down in a chair opposite him and considered him for some time. “I’m curious about something,” he said at length in their mother tongue. “It’s clear that you’re of above-average intelligence and power, and yet you behave like a rug for people to step on. I thought that maybe your… Head Boy or the upper-year students will be talking to you about this, but clearly they have not.”

Blinking, Seungkwan tried to cudgel his mind into working: he was hungry and tired and filthy, and not even the increased ease of Korean made things clearer for him. “I don’t understand what you mean, Choi-ssi. Could you please explain how I have been failing?”

Seungcheol grimaced, anger flickering. “I’m not going to speak about Jisoo-ssi’s kids, because they seem to be staying out of this, but you persist in acting like a mouse around the Durmstrang students. I’ve heard tell that Danika in the fifth-year class has been spreading rumours about your fitness and right to be in this tournament, yet you don’t challenge her. You don’t challenge anyone; in fact, not only do you not challenge them, but you go out of your way to apologise, as if it’s your fault in the first place. Is it that you really can’t duel anymore? Did all those wands shattering at the qualifiers break you somehow?”

Seungkwan’s head jerked up at the painful little needling comments; once upon a time he would have cried at them, but the last few days had stolen his tears. “I’m trying to be polite,” he grated. “And I’m afraid too, of what might happen if I lift my wand where a professor isn’t around to see. Choi-ssi, would you have me just worsening the situation?” He paused. “Where’s Jeonghan-hyung? Why isn’t he here in any case? If I did something wrong, he should reprimand me.”

Seungcheol snorted. “It’s got nothing to do with that person,” he said tightly. “This has to do with you, Boo Seungkwan, not him. I want to know, from you, why you are afraid to lift your wand.”

Seungkwan’s teeth sunk into the flesh of his lower lip before he reached to scrub at his face with his palms; his eyes burnt from fatigue. “I’m afraid of what might happen if I let go. I’ve hated my time here; I hate you, I hate your school, I hate everything about here.” The words bubbled from him, born on frustration. “I hate the way you treat me like dirt, and I hate how much like my family you are -- gods, you really have no idea, right? I’ve learnt my manners very early there, I know what happens if I don’t conform. I wish I could blow all of you up… is that what you want to hear? I honestly wish I could conjure Fiendfyre and just let it take all of you.”

Seungcheol remained silent for a while before he simply tilted his head. “But?” he asked. “I’m hearing a but.”

“But,” said Seungkwan tiredly, “That will just make Udo and my friends at the Tournament look bad, and I’ll be jailed for the rest of my life for murder and I can’t have that. They’ll snap my wand and bind my magic, and all those _trolls_ that said I’d amount to nothing because of my mother would think they’re correct.”

“I see,” Seungcheol mulled. “You really hate us all that much, huh?”

Seungkwan nodded, abruptly more tired as the sudden flick of anger left him. “I really do.”

“Hatred can be a very powerful motivating force,” Seungcheol said as he leant forward, arms resting on his knees. “But you are making one critical mistake.”

“Please,” Seungkwan mumbled. “Do tell, Choi-ssi.”

“The first tenet of Durmstrang is that standing alone makes you strong. Adversity breeds strength. We focus on the individual here, and we do not respect weaklings, not because they shame us, but because they _shame themselves_. They see you do not respect yourself enough to stand tall and fight - yes, not very Korean, I know - but that you let them steamroller you.” Seungcheol paused. “How many times has someone here told you in the past week that student duelling is legal and even preferred at Durmstrang?”

Seungkwan, boggled, tried to understand the depth of the cultural divide that could lead to a mindset like that. “Uh… four, maybe five times?”

“Yesterday, when Danika reportedly called you a fat, bumbling fool, why didn’t you hex her teeth out of her mouth? It’s patently not true, Radningar Chwe tells me that you are keeping up now in Saga training, and you’re shining in all your classes.”

“I… I…” Seungkwan’s mouth opened, then closed, before he reached to rub at his face again. “I can’t just pick on a girl.”

Seungcheol blinked at him. “...what? Why?”

Seungkwan tried to explain how precious he found his mother and his older sisters, how much he respected them, but he couldn’t quite frame it. “It’s rude?”

“Really? Wasn’t she rude first? What about Gunnar then? Erik? Selvig?”

“An eye for an eye is not the way I want to live my life!” Seungkwan shouted, pricked by the insinuation. “I could really hurt them! Just because they’re being rude doesn’t mean I need to maim them, and I would, I can feel it lurking, okay? I’d start and I wouldn’t know where to stop!”

Seungcheol stared at him, and finally stood. “You know,” he said, voice a little warmer. “I think I know what the problem is. Get up and come with me.”

Seungkwan didn’t want to. He wanted to curse him and go and lie under a blanket, but there was an iron-hard grip on his one arm and said grip dragged him out of the office and out of the (comparatively) lovely heat of the Stavkirk and into the cold Scandinavian winter again. The thin wind hit Seungkwan like a brick, rushed to fill his senses and woke him up enough to pluck his arm from Seungcheol’s grip. “I can walk myself, thank you,” he snarled as politely as he could.

Seungcheol said nothing in response to that, just trotted out of the _Trelleborgen_ in total silence until they passed the split to Myrkvior and headed down to the cold, _cold_ beach. “Get out your wand,” he snapped tightly as he flicked one hand and a wand made of blackest ebony shot into his hand. “Throw on a warming charm first. I don’t want you expiring on me.”

In his queer mix of fear and anger Seungkwan overpowered the charm; he felt so absurdly warm that sweat immediately broke out on his brow, and the old sweat on his running shirt turned into steam.

“Here.” With a simple twirl of his wand and no words, Seungcheol transfigured a stretch of sand into rows of eerily accurate granite dummies. “Blow them up.”

Seungkwan stared at him, stared at the dummies and uttered a hesitant ‘Bombarda’, trying not to overpower it. 

Nothing happened. No scratch, no flying pieces of granite, _nothing._

“Pathetic,” Seungcheol sneered. “Again.”

“ _Bombarda_!”

This time he felt a little buck in his wand, and the first statue toppled to the side, careening off balance from a suddenly cracking leg.

“Again!”

“ _Bombarda!_ ”

Two statues this time; Seungkwan felt his anger humming a little louder, felt the rough purring of his wand deep in his mind. 

“Again! You’re not even five down, perhaps you are weak!” Seungcheol thundered.

“ _Bombarda_!” Seungkwan screamed, but the statues regrew as fast as he broke them. He couldn’t stay ahead no matter how much he dug, no matter how much he wanted to just blow the whole stinking place up, see it slide right into the sea, or burn it from the face of the world. 

“Again!” a small, very distant voice yelled at him, and the statues loomed like demon-kin in front of him: features exaggerated, and so many he couldn’t tell where they ended and sand began.

Deep inside Seungkwan something cracked for the final time, and his wand woke up and _hissed_ in his hand. For a moment, all of him was a single moment of intent. “ _BOMBARDA!_ ” he roared, pushing that entire will into his spell. It flowed through him in a thick, golden stream, and very distantly he heard a cracking sound.

His eyes slammed open at the sound of thin, aspirated laughter. The earth _was_ moving; somehow he had carved such a deep trench into the beach that pieces of erstwhile sea lay many metres inland now, and the cliff-face looked rearranged and there were bits of statue all over the place. Despite that, when he looked sideways at Seungcheol, he saw that he looked perfectly okay, and he was laughing like a loon. 

For a moment he remembered someone else laughing like that, and the feeling of warm fur under his fingertips. “What?” he snapped, feeling tired but oddly good. “Why are you laughing? I nearly totalled your beach.”

Seungcheol struggled to his feet. “I’m laughing, you little shit, because the last time I had seen that was when I made Vernon angry enough to spit; the only reason we don’t have a new Trelleborgen is because you directed most of the force out over water. It sheared perhaps an inch past me and I was squarely in the blast zone. Even when you’re so angry you’re choking on your own spit you didn’t hurt me.”

Seungkwan blinked, then blinked again, and abruptly fell on his butt as his knees folded underneath him. “What?” he whispered.

“I’m saying, you little idiot, that you were blindly angry and that you still pulled your punch to make sure I didn’t get seriously hurt. And if you can do that, I’m certain that you can do it whilst duelling as well.” Seungcheol dusted himself off, turned the statue bits back to sand, and came to haul him up, clapping him hard on the back. “You can do it. I give you leave to kick their asses up one side of the hallways and down the other. And Seungkwan-ssi?”

“Um, yes?” Seungkwan said, practically dizzy not only from the unexpected praise, but the _feeling_ inside him, warmth and approval even though he felt tired to the bone. 

“We deserve to fight against you at the peak of your strength,” Seungcheol said softly but seriously. “Everyone deserves to test their mettle against the strongest opponent they can. Pull your head out of your ass and start being that person. Don’t confuse lack of reaction with lack of respect. Show us the strength of Boo Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan nodded and swayed, head swimming. 

“Back to the Langhus with you. If you hurry up, you’ll still get breakfast at the very least. Don’t go too fast, though, we don’t want you passing out.”

Grimacing - the Durmstrang Stallari was being so contradictory! - Seungkwan turned to fight his way up the cliff path towards the Trelleborgen _._

Seungcheol waited until he had crossed the first part of the road before he wandered up himself. As he expected, it wasn’t very many steps before a tall, quiet form joined him quietly on the ascent. “He’s powerful,” he said to the wind and air. “Very powerful.”

Vernon said nothing, but inclined his silver-gilt head once. 

“Has he stopped complaining in the saga training?”

“Yes, Stallari,” Vernon said. Silence reigned for a bit before he sighed. “Did I do the right thing talking to you? Our struggles make us stronger, but I thought they might break him instead.”

Seungcheol paused to look at his friend. “Hansol-ah,” he said softly, using the name very few were privileged to use. “Don’t mistake my business with his senior as your fight. If you want to make friends with him, any of them, you know you are allowed to, right? My fights are not your fights.”

Vernon grimaced but nodded. “It wouldn’t have been a fair fight otherwise,” he murmured. “Now I won’t feel so bad for doing my very best to beat him. I…” He paused. “I don’t want people that pretend to be friends and stab me in the back. You don’t need to worry, hyung.” With that, he nodded and left as well, long legs hastening to shower and breakfast.

Seungcheol stared at his back and sighed, honestly not sure what to say. Perhaps Wonwoo would have some wise advice.

His stomach growled and he shook his head as he left, promising it _some_ food at least.

* * *

  
  


_Afternoon, 19 October 2020_

Of all the places that Minghao had seen so far in this rather rigid place, he loved the libraries the most; nothing to the grand libraries back home, or in Beauxbatons, but very grand in their own way. The gardens were a close second, especially the one pod that was kept constantly at a summer temperature, but _that_ was filled with canoodling couples, and he got enough of _that_ at home too.

He wandered a little, wishing for one of the elegant salles to practice in, when a great noise attracted his attention, and he deviated back into the _Langhus_ from his course outside, wandering to go and see what was going on. Finding a great press of people, he found Boo Seungkwan five-deep in people around the hearth, lecturing like a shrew at two of the Udo boys, who looked wet to their skin. 

“It’s the middle of the winter!” Boo Seungkwan said shrilly. “The water’s actually frozen thick enough in patches to skate on! Are you two entirely without brains?”

Minghao stared, trying to decipher the situation. From the sound of the gossip around the little tableau, someone had dared them to go for a swim and the two had actually managed to get neck-deep before getting confused in the dark water. _Perhaps all that muscle squeezing out their brains,_ he thought as he eyeballed them, trying to place them.

_Not the Chinese one that joked so much, but are they champions? That tall muscled one is in Combat with me - Kim Mingyu, I think? I’ve not really seen the black-haired, sharp-eyed one before, perhaps one of their sixth-year Champions. I’ll have to ask Seokkie about that one, and whether he’s similarly inflicted with a lack of brains. A swim in these waters - even monks would have better sense, and_ they _can control their body temperature._

He watched admiringly for a little - he had seldom heard someone nag up such a storm before whilst nannying stupidity as much - before he was distracted by a cleared throat at his side. When he looked, it was the other Udo student, the one that ate as if he was going to die if he didn’t get food. Seungkwan-ah had called him Jihoon-hyung, but not really shared any of the boy’s history. Stowing his smile, he bowed slightly to him. “Lee Jihoon, correct? May I help you?”

The shorter boy tilted his head as he looked up at Minghao. “That’s correct,” he said with a deeper voice than expected. “And you are Xu Minghao, I believe? I was wondering whether I might have a word with somewhere quiet?” He cast a look at the trio at the hearth. “Somewhere where our brains won’t rot from exposure to _that_ stupidity.”

Intrigued, Minghao nodded and turned to lead the way, moving from the _Langhus_ with its lack of privacy to the library in Mimir. “This is the quietest place I know around here,” he said softly as he peeked around, finally locating a small unoccupied reading room. He bowed his guest to a seat - old habits died hard - and sat down himself. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Young Master Lee, but forgive me if I said I can’t think what it is that you wish. Or… is it something to do with Seungkwan?”

Jihoon seated himself on the minimally-upholstered chair and folded up as comfortably as he could. “No, although I do need to express my thanks for your early patronage of his company. He’s been having a difficult time. No, oddly enough, I am on another errand.” He dipped one smooth-skinned hand into his thick coat and produced a thick stack of parchment. “This is for you,” he explained, tendering it. “From my _Shīfu._ When we heard who might be Champions, they prepared this in case.”

Minghao took it carefully and blinked upon seeing it. Thick, yes, but with the most beautiful calligraphy of his name he had ever seen -- impeccable, done in such an old style it made him wonder. “May I ask who your _shīfu_ is?” he finally asked. 

“Master Xu Yuan,” Jihoon said shortly. “They’re my Alchemy master.”

Minghao nearly swallowed his tongue, hit by such strong memories that his lip parted. The legendary Xu Yuan, the shame (and brilliance) of his clan, was this boy’s master? “Oh,” he managed to say. “He’s your master? I…”

“Master Yu Xuan identifies as non-binary,” Jihoon said quietly but firmly. “Their chosen pronouns are they and them, not his. And yes.”

Minghao felt yanked up short, swallowing at the reminder of grim old history. Every kid in his clan knew of it, doubly so in his position as heir. Two - three? - generations ago Xu Yuan had laid down his sword and walked away from the Moon Pavilion, deserting his clan when the elders had demanded that he reform from his scandalous practices. When he - they - had walked rather than conforming and left the clan, all mentions had been stripped and the clan register corrected, but people still talked in corners, and his - their! - brilliance had been undeniable.

“Forgive me,” he strangled out, fighting not to wrinkle the parchment. “I wasn’t aware that _Yuánsù-lǎoshī_ had taken any students. I was given to understand…” He swallowed, trying to stop the way that his heart beat in his throat. “I was given to understand that they had chosen to cultivate in isolation. I have never heard of them taking in a student.”

Lee Jihoon’s expression gentled slightly. “I won the right to be called their apprentice out of a pool of three thousand others when they made it known that they were considering it,” he explained with an aura of intense pride. “I did not expect to meet any of their family outside of China.”

_No, no you would not, would you?_ Minghao thought, considering the boy - young man? - before he nodded. “Thank you for couriering the letter to me,” he said, folding his hands together with great respect and bowing over them. “You do me much courtesy.” The polite phrases felt like they would choke him, but what was one to say? 

Jihoon, clearly uncomfortable, nodded. “You remind me of them,” he said, standing. “You move in the same way. I’ll leave you with your letter, but if you want to talk about them, I’m always available.” He nodded and left, closing the small reading room’s door behind him quietly. 

Minghao gave in to the trembles that had raged against his control, hands shaking as he considered the thick fold of parchment. His parents would kill him if he answered a letter from an outcast of his family, but Lee Jihoon had looked so proud, and Beauxbatons had taught him more tolerance than he had been born with. Not only that but deep in his core where his connection to Shèngxié rested, his sword ached at the mention of the bearer it had had to give up.

_What is this? Why is this happening? Do I… do I read it?_

A welling of righteousness felt deep inside answered his questions, and he pressed his lips tightly shut as he broke the seal and turned the parchment over to read the tiny, fine characters.

* * *

  
  


_Late at night, Mimir Study Pods, 20 October 2020_

Jeonghan rested back in the study room’s chair, having transformed it to something a great deal more comfortable than it had been. The pillows were soft and plush now, not merely a hard leather pad, and the leg support held him almost horizontal. Though the fire had long since been banked and the torches dimmed, the room was brilliantly lit by little firefly globes of light that hung suspended just underneath the ceiling. He could readily admit that they were a lovely bit of charm-work, and he would have been delighted if he knew the spell, but Joshuji continued to refuse to teach it to him. There was a condition of some sort, but he had not squirreled it out yet.

“I hear that Professor Afanasievna is still tormenting those sixth-years of yours,” Jisoo said from across the room, book open on his lap and eyes nailed on the text within. "Was she really so offended when her home-grown students got bested by your sixth years?”

Jeonghan mm-hmed. “The thing you have to know about Kwon Soonyoung is that you can build a palace on his willpower -- once he decides something he doesn’t quit until he’s dead or unconscious. That first training session marked her out for Soonyoung. The way she has purposely triggered Skald Jeon's design to inflict that much of intentional damage just egged him on. That, and she’s the worst supremacist I’ve ever met -- I’m surprised the Jarl still allows her to teach here.”

Jisoo’s beautiful brow furrowed with a gentle frown. “I know she’s a supremacist,” he admitted. “I have her for magical languages, after all. Even Seokmin-ah is finding it difficult to say something nice about her.”

“Your Seokmin-ah is entirely too nice.” Jeonghan pondered the sullen red glow of the coals. “Is she giving you issues as well? Something tells me that a certain black-and-red bear we both know will be delighted to make things easier for you.”

Jisoo lifted his gaze to concentrate on Jeonghan. “I’m a beast-blood; it doesn’t help that my other half is pureblood. Besides, Veela and Sirens hate each other. Fire and water, you know. And no, you may certainly not tell Cheol-ah anything about this. I will handle it in my own way.” He paused. “Hannie, _no_. Don’t think I can’t recognise your plotting smile even with your face turned that way.”

Jeonghan sniffed. “You never let me have any fun,” he said airily. “Besides, Stallari Choi is barely talking to me, I don’t know where you think I’d get a chance to talk to him about a champion from another school. Even you, my dear Joshuji.”

Jisoo gave a click of his tongue and closed his book. “Talking to you is like trying to pin one of a nest of squirming eels down,” he said, humour colouring his voice. “I can see this is weighing on your mind in any case.” Standing, he moved to slip into the recliner next to Jeonghan, draping against him. “Tell me about Kwon Soonyoung first, beautiful one. Perhaps I have some advice at least there.”

Jeonghan blinked at the move but accommodated him, lifting his chin just a little to rest on top of the curling blonde hair. _He smells nice,_ he mused as he tried to think of where to start. “Soonyoung-ah is a muggleborn, as you know, a spontaneous, strong flowering in their family line. The whole family moved to Udo to support him and integrate there; these days they’re our primary farmers, and I love them dearly. The whole family has really big hearts, and Soonyoung the biggest of them all.”

Jisoo wiggled a little to get comfortable. “But he can be really obstinate too? Seokmin-ah has only good things to say, apart from the fact that he seems to attack spells like a bull… or a tiger.”

Lifting a hand to pet Jisoo’s shoulder, Jeonghan considered his toes. “He can be obstinate and impulsive,” he admitted. “But when he loves, he loves fiercely, and he truly tries his best. That’s partly why he’s a prefect this year; the other half is because he’s the only one mad enough to sit on some of the nuisances in Gryffindor.” He sighed. “Case in point Boo Seungkwan.”

“Seungkwan-ah’s a nuisance?” Jisoo asked, patently surprised. “That’s unexpected, Little Hao would not have liked him so much if he were.”

“He’s a nuisance in that he feels too much,” Jeonghan says. “And he’s headstrong as well, but very lovable, and Soonyoung loves him dearly as a little brother that needs to be protected at times. The other problem is Lee Jihoon, of course.”

“Your little Maledictus.”

Jeonghan sighed. “Yes,” he muttered. “But Soonyoung-ah fell in love with him on the first day, and has not stopped since, even though he has an ass-backwards way of showing it, and _Jihoon_ loves Seungkwan like a little brother. Jihoonie would do anything for Seungkwan, so from what I’ve been able to gather he asked Soonyoung to help him crush the sixth years. Add to that the blatant cheating and supremacism, and you have a recipe to make Kwon Soonyoung dig his heels in. He’s _stubborn_ , like an Erumpent that doesn’t want to be moved. And one of these days he’s going to explode at Professor Afanasievna and I for one am just going to stand there and watch him annihilate her.”

Jisoo murmured acceptance as he listened. “I’m guessing that either Lee Jihoon is blind or so busy with his problems he’s not yet noticed his effect on Kwon Soonyoung?” Idly, half-concentrating, he draped one leg over Jeonghan’s and slipped onto his side, the better to cuddle and idly play with one of the Slytherin’s extremely neat ankles. “And have you considered taking a stab at explaining yourself again to our bear?”

Blinking at the feeling, Jeonghan cast a look down the long lines of their bodies to where Jisoo’s one socked foot was tracing little circles around his ankle; it wasn’t so much that it was happening but that it felt unwontedly nice, a little shivery and tickly. “I have. Actually, the mental magics class helped me a little, but I need to think a little on how I approach it.” Considering, he tilted his foot a little, just to see whether Jisoo would follow the movement.

“The way the two of you clash against each other is giving me a headache anyway,” Jisoo complained. “It’s almost as bad as Little Hao’s insistence on going back to China one day. Understandable, but quite irritating.” He dragged a toe over Jeonghan’s ankle again. “Are we allowed to drink coffee here? I shudder at the idea of more mead.”

Jeonghan closed his eyes, old memories assailing him, and considered them as he gently dragged his fingers through Jisoo’s hair. “I’m too lazy to go and get from the kitchens right now, Joshuji.” He paused. “I… Jisoo, when it comes to time to sort out your feelings for our bear, don’t you dare take my feelings into consideration, alright? He’s a good man to be with, even if he’s a surly wretch that bears grudges.”

For a moment he felt the intake of breath that suggested Jisoo wanted to say something, but the other soon sighed it all out and fell quiet instead, apparently content to cuddle.

_Good,_ Jeonghan thought. _Good. At least he’ll be happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The Ehwaz rune literally means horse; in some interpretations, this rune can be used to imply transportation, or becoming a vehicle. The Nauthiz rune is also called a need-fire; it represents wanting, or necessity. In the blood rune that Wonwoo drew, combining the Ehwaz and Nauthiz runes asks magic to bring to him things that he requires. In this case he needed Junhui's training clothes so the runes needed Junhui's blood as well. Wonwoo, being familiar with the Trelleborgen magic, has initiated the request on Junhui's behalf. 
> 
> \- Lacessere comes from the latin word Lacesso which means provoke or challenge.


	10. CHAP: The Camel's Back

_ Before lunch, Stavkirk Freyr, Animagus classroom: _

Seungcheol felt tired when he made his way to professor Antonov’s class -- not physically but mentally, the Tournament was becoming much more of a drag than he could remember from last time.

_ Barring the end. Always, always barring the end. _

Yoon Jeonghan had tried to talk to him today, and it was strange watching the fall on his face when Seungcheol squeezed past with an insincere apology. Knowing the man, he’d find him popping up again later on, and he did  _ not _ look forward to that either.

His shoulders relaxed as he made his way into the small, dark room. Despite its size it wasn’t stuffy at all but slightly cool, smelling of fir and ocean and natural things. Dragan -- professor Antonov had always claimed the lack of light and smell of nature made it easier for those with any talent at being an Animagus to meditate and reach for it. He himself had first managed a bear’s paw here about a year ago, and it  _ had _ helped and… 

...and his mind was going in circular patterns again.

He lifted his head to shake it just as Wonwoo and Vernon entered. Pausing hand on cheek, he just  _ looked _ at his fellow champions for a while.

It was an open secret that something very strange was going on with Wonwoo; their raven had never let anyone touch him before, and was the quietest man he knew except when teaching the Herra students. Now, apparently, it was Jeon Wonwoo’s new normal to smile more, to laugh at silly jokes, and to hang around with Wen Junhui, who apparently magically had leave to touch him and… and Seungcheol wanted to open his eyes in the worst ways about the fickle nature of friends, but he  _ liked _ this Wonwoo.

Vernon too -- something had changed there in that he watched the Udo Hogwarts students with an eagle eye, and the strong-cheeked boy with the golden hair most of all. 

_ I’ve tainted him with what happened two years ago,  _ Seungcheol thought uneasily.  _ I never meant to, but I was so bitter and lost, and now I don’t know how to unfuck that. _

“ _Stallari_ ,” both of them muttered, swinging to sit on each side of him.

“Professor Antonov caught me on the way here,” Wonwoo said first. “He had to leave, said there was an accidental magic kid to the north of here that turned half of himself into a wolf, he has to go undo that. He said we should talk about the first task. I did tell the two Udo students.”

Seungcheol blinked. “We have Udo students in this class too?” he asked wearily. “Since when?”

“It’s the young one… Lee Chan? Professor Oppenheim tagged him after last week’s Transfig class and suggested he come here. And the muscled one… Kim Mingyu? Same thing. He thinks they might have animagus talent, even though they don’t know about it. Especially the young one, he’s apparently excellent at Transfiguration.”

Vernon nodded thoughtfully. “He is. I’ve seen him do it. He’s almost as fast as you are, _Stallari_. It’s lucky he’s just a spectator now, next tournament he’s going to be a menace. The others aren’t nearly as talented, except…” He fell silent, discomfort tinting the planes of his aristocratic face. “There’s a slight problem,” he finally admitted. “But perhaps Wonwoo- _hyung_ can explain it better.”

Seungcheol, thoughts meandering, made a note to chat to Lee Chan. “Wait… what problem?” he asked.

“It’s Professor Afanasievna,” Wonwoo said, and sighed when Vernon slumped a little with relief. “She was very outspoken about blood purity in last night’s saga training again, but this time she publicly made it clear . That other Udo  Champion, Kwon Soonyoung - has been the butt of all her little opinions for the past few sessions because he won’t put his head down.  It was discreet at first, as discreet as she could hide her disgust for Soonyoung...”

“As discreet as not attempting to kill them?” Vernon questioned wryly, clearly remembering the whispers of disastrous saga training in the corridors. 

Seungcheol has never truly given the rumour mill a thought, but it seems like this would have to change this year.  _ Another thing to be noted, I suppose.  _

Wonwoo gave Vernon a glance, neither confirming or denying his comment and continued instead. “ L ast night she called him a mudblood in front of everyone, and said he would never amount to anything with stolen magic, and added insult to injury and suggested his fellow student Lee Jihoon is that ill because Kwon Soonyoung is leeching on his magic. He lost it.”

Seungcheol blinked and straightened. “He lost it?” he questioned tightly. “Did he try to hex her?”

Wonwoo’s smile was very slow and cold and edged. “No,” he said. “No, Kwon Soonyoung’s mind is much more tactical than that. He did hex the daylights out of Danika though, she’s still in the medical wing. No, she stalked off in the midst of training again.”

“She did what?” Seungcheol demanded, eyes bulging. “Why?”

“Not immediately,” Wonwoo said serenely. “But then the girl from Beauxbatons, Ghyslaine de la Vallière, made a few  _ very  _ pointed comments about talent being talent, whether it comes from a muggle or a pig’s ear from Russia and Afanasievna totally lost it.”

“Oh god,” Seungcheol muttered, fighting the impulse to thud his head against the desk over and over. “Is he any good?”

“You mean for 'a mudblood with stolen talent’?” Wonwoo asked stoically. 

Vernon frowned slightly. “Hey,” he said quietly to Wonwoo. “You know Seungcheol isn’t like that.”

Wonwoo clicked his tongue impatiently. “I don’t know if he’s good or not, but given that I’ve seen him in Advanced Transfiguration,  I've seen him conquer the training each and every day and I’ve seen him sketch out a ward array in five minutes flat, I’d say he’s quite good, yes. He’s a  _ Champion _ . What’s more, now he’s a Champion  _ with a grudge _ .”

This time Seungcheol did bang his head against the table slowly and methodically. 

Wonwoo considered his fingertips. “The only thing you can do tactically speaking is hope the fifth years fuck up, and that none of the seventh years are as good at Transfiguration as you are.”

“I’ll do it,” Vernon said. “I’ll win, but… you’re going to have to do something about this situation. I don’t want to ask you formally as our _Stallari_ , but…”

Seungcheol’s sigh was heavy. “I’ll speak to the Udo leader and see if there’s some way I can totally avoid chaos,” he muttered. “Wonwoo, why didn’t you tell me earlier it was getting this bad?”

“Has it ever mattered to you before?” Wonwoo asked distantly as he stood. “That time and time again she comes to take over  _ my training _ and turns it into a class where, if you’re not  pure or do not share her sentiments , you get your soul hexed out of you? You went through those classes as well. Did you think to complain?”

“No, because…” Seungcheol fell silent as he considered his memories of the previous years. “Because we just accepted that that’s the way it’s always been, and that those that leave are just weak. Shit.”

Wonwoo nodded tightly and stood. “Precisely. I’ll try my best in the contest, but I can tell you right now I don’t hold any hope of winning it, genius or no genius. As such, I’m going to go and study. Good day, _Stallari_ , Hansol-ah.”

Seungcheol watched him leave, Vernon very quiet at his side, and had that sinking feeling of everything going wrong again.

* * *

  
  


Lunch was a quiet and dismal affair for Seungcheol, mostly because he knew what would be coming later. For once, Jisoo wasn’t there to liven up his mood, so he ate quickly and settled for watching the students, right until he saw Yoon Jeonghan stand up to leave at his distant table. Sighing internally and grabbing his courage by the tail, he stood as well and marched to his side in long steps. 

“Champion Yoon,” he managed to get out. “My apologies for not having time earlier. I have time now, if you wish to have that discussion.”

Jeonghan looked at him, lips thin in his beautiful face, but he nodded once and stepped aside to allow Seungcheol to lead the way.

Seungcheol trailed out and to the small conversation room he had once talked to Boo Seungkwan in, making himself at home. “Mead?” he asked gruffly.

“No, thank you,” Jeonghan said coolly. “Might I say how grateful I am that you have time for this quick chat, _Stallari_ Choi.”

Seungcheol nearly winced.  _ He’s angry. Hell, I don’t even know why I still care that he’s angry.  _ “You wished to speak to me, Yoon Jeonghan-ssi,” he said as blandly as he could.

Jeonghan sat back and considered him for a moment before he nodded. “Yes. There is a problem I need to discuss with you. Far be it for me to complain about our reception here at Durmstrang, but I do have a little bit of a problem with some aspects of it. There is a professor here…”

“Yes,” Seungcheol interrupted harshly. “I’ve heard that your team is having problems with Professor Afanasievna. I... “ He trailed off at the boggled look on Jeonghan’s face. “Is there  _ another _ professor you are having issues with? More trouble with Durmstrang teaching methods? Can’t your kids hack it?”

“...what?” Jeonghan said. “I’m curious, do you actually  _ listen _ to the bullshit coming out of your mouth, or have the last two years of hating me rotted your brains? No, for your information, I’m happy to report that except for that waste of air none of my kids have problems with  _ any _ of your teachers. But it’s not just my kids having a problem with her, you  _ incomparable shithead,  _ it’s Joshuji as well!”

Seungcheol inhaled, trembling with rage, but Jeonghan’s nickname for Jisoo pulled him up short and he blinked with shock. “...what?” he asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Jeonghan’s nostrils flared; Seungcheol knew of old it was a sign he was really,  _ really _ angry. “Try to keep up,” he said scathingly. “That person teaches Magical Languages. Joshuji is in the Magical Languages class back at Beauxbatons - he’s learning Mermish - and so he’s in the class for it here as well. Joshuji is half-Siren. That person has some Veela blood. Veelas and Sirens  _ hate _ each other. Do you think she’s been doing anything but shitting all over him since we came here?”

Gut-punched, Seungcheol stared at him, mouth agape. “What?” he asked yet again. “But he’s not said anything to me?”

“And say what? ‘Hey, I’m sorry but I think your teacher hates my guts’? You walk around contemptuous of an entire  _ school _ because you hate me. Why would that give him any idea that he could come to you safely about anything? For all we know, you’d just laugh it off because you think it’s weakness on his part.”

“I,” Seungcheol snarled, teeth gritted, “do not hate ‘an entire school’. I would have listened to him, I’m supposed to be an ambassador for any problems. I just hate you!”

Jeonghan blinked at him, flinching away.

Seungcheol cursed the words as the silence deepened, until Jeonghan gave a little half-laugh, a thing more composed of pain than joy.

“Whatever,” Jeonghan mumbled. “Sure. Hate me. I don’t care. But right now, as an ambassador to your school, I am warning you that we neither appreciate nor will tolerate these kinds of racist remarks any longer. I will ask my Headmistress to put in a formal complaint tomorrow, and she will decide what to do from there on. For the record, I  _ hope _ she challenges that bitch and wipes the floor with her ass.” He stood. “Good day to you,  _ Stallari Choi, _ you have been extremely helpful.”

Something inside Seungcheol prompted him to shoot to his feet as well, whether it was his ego being pricked or the whiteness of Jeonghan’s cheeks or the faint suspicion he had said something too final. “Wait! Just… wait, okay? Just sit down, I have a suggestion.”

Jeonghan looked at him for long moments before he nodded shortly and sat down again. 

Seungcheol grimaced as he sat down. “The problem with that professor is institutional,” he admitted. “When confronted about her earlier today, I realise that even I’ve been complicit in just believing she’s the status quo, despite the Jarl trying to convert the Institute from what it was in the previous war into something that can truly be a premier educational school. It’s politics, you understand? Without proof and without backing, there’s no way she can fire Afanasievna. But…”

“But?” Jeonghan asked shortly. 

“But perhaps if you lodge a formal complaint and find proof it might be enough to get her suspended whilst inquiries pend,” Seungcheol said. “The only problem is that Afanasievna is a canny political witch. She’d never say or do anything to implicate herself if she knew people with real political heft were watching her, and few of the students here would speak up against her.”

Jeonghan took a long, shuddering breath. “So you want to have proof against her ready to go.”

“Exactly,” Seungcheol nodded. 

Another deep breath; Jeonghan’s chest rose and fell slowly as he calmed down. “There’s only one way that I can think of,” he said. “Mental magics. But I don’t know if Professor Gaspar can be trusted.”

“Professor Gaspar has excellent mental ethics,” Seungcheol said tightly. “Unlike other people that I could name.”

“I have told you before,” Jeonghan said very tightly, “And I’ll tell you again. I wasn’t aware that I was reading your mind back then. I thought it was my father’s training in how to read people paying off. I didn’t know I was a natural _Legilimens_ , nor did anyone in my family. I’ve had the talk from Professor Gaspar after our welcome here, and I’ve allowed him to look. I’ve done nothing but have mental ethics forced down my throat twenty-four seven for the last week. I’m  _ sorry _ but I’m going to stop fucking apologising because you never believe it anyway. I  _ didn’t know. _ ”

Seungcheol didn’t know what to say; the memories welled up thick and fast, leaving him no time to breathe. Using sheer willpower, he pushed them back into the ‘to be looked at later’ bin in his mind and nodded curtly. “I’ll speak to Jisoo and see what he has to say. If you can find any of your sixth years willing to allow an extraction of their memories, I will let the Jarl know.”

“Fine,” Jeonghan snarled and left hastily.

Seungcheol sat there staring at the fire and wondered whether the ghosts of what happened two years ago would ever leave him alone.

* * *

_ After dinner, Sigrid’s hut, 21 October 2020:  _

Jihoon knocked gently on the doorway of the little hut they had gardened in that morning, super-full from dinner and in the mood for a nap. Saga training before dinner had been a nightmare; Professor Afanasievna had been nastier than ever.  He didn’t think that falling from a height of two stories because of a person’s disdain for a certain genetic make up would be topped in his list of “Things That Could Be Worse but I’m Already A Maledictus” but the uptight zealot managed to topple his expectations with every training session. 

This night in particular has been bad; shuddering at the feeling of grease and tar that coated the magic in his recollection of the free-for-all, no-holds barred, dark curse fest in the Afanasievna-approved parkour training which quickly turned into a Pin-The-Tail game directed at non-purebloods.

H e was actually worried about the  _ pabo _ , who had once again taken the brunt of it with Jun. He wished he could convince them that he could take it as well, but it was too late for that by now, and in his heart of hearts he knew he wasn’t well enough for it.

“Come in,” a soft voice called.

He slipped inside the hut and pulled the door behind him to shut off the cold; the inside of it didn’t look anything like he had imagined. There were balls of bright light floating around the ceiling, lighting it as well as daylight almost; the click-clack, click-clack from the loom the professor worked at sounded hypnotic. “You wanted to see me, professor?” he asked.

Professor Bach did something highly arcane at the loom and nodded as she turned to face him; seconds later her forehead crumpled with a frown and she stood to cross to her hearth. “Please sit down over here,” she murmured, pouring a cup of something that had steam wafting off it. She waited until he was seated before passing it on, and made herself comfortable as well. “Your headmistress made a formal request for you to talk to the Ravens,” she murmured. “What do you know about that?”

Jihoon wanted to curl around the mug, which turned out to be the same rich honey-tea from earlier. “Not much,” he mumbled. “But my master, upon hearing that we were coming here, suggested that they might be able to help with my, um,  _ issue _ . Apparently they are very, very good at divination and, like, life magics.”

Professor Bach tilted her head. “Who’s your master?”

“My master’s name is Xu Yuan,” Jihoon said, wiggling uneasily to get comfortable under her intent gaze. “They’re … well. We’ve been struggling to lift my family’s curse, and my seventeenth birthday is in about a month. My family… my father’s still alive but my mother died before her nineteenth birthday whilst having me. I’m already…” He fell silent, trying to cudgel the despair deep into his mind into coherent thought. “We don’t even know  _ why _ we’re cursed. It’s just the way it’s always been.”

She turned her head to look thoughtfully into the eaves of her little hut, gaze settling somewhere between all the dried bundles of herbs hanging from them. “Drink your tea, dear. The Ravens are the oldest female coven we have around here,” she explained after a few moments. “They are adherents of the old magics: blood, birth, death. Not Grey, not Dark, not Light… the Ravens just are, and they’re choosy about who they speak to. It’s wise that your Headmistress made a formal request.”

Jihoon said nothing, just sipped at the heady tea. It felt as if it refreshed him, sinking down into his sore bones and tired muscles and bruised, aching core. “Yes, ma’am.” He paused. “This is excellent tea. Um, what’s in it?”

Professor Bach returned her gaze to him. “Honey, English Breakfast tea and a few little compounds,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be delighted to show you later on. You’ve had this curse all your life? What do you want the Ravens to do about it? Break it? Lift it somehow?”

Grimacing, Jihoon shook his head. “Not even that much,” he mumbled. “I don’t have that much to trade in response. Even if they can just tell me who cursed us, and what kind of curse it is… really, ma’am, if I can just know that, I might be able to try and break it myself. It already took my mom. If it takes me too, if I can’t hold out longer than she did, my dad will never recover. We’re the only one the other has. I’ve tried learning as much as I can, look into healing, but it’s futile without that knowledge.”

“Do you really think that that’s true?” Professor Bach asked gently. “That no one’s going to miss you except your dad? That’s not very realistic, is it? I’m betting that your friends will miss you, and your dad surely has friends of his own as well. If there’s one thing this request has proved it’s that you’re not alone in this endeavour. There are a great many people that seem to be willing to help you.”

Jihoon felt an inch smaller, and he nodded mutely before taking another sip.

“As it is,” the professor continued, “I don’t know what their response to this request might be. Whatever it is, it’ll be the only response you’ll ever get from them, and if they decide not to help, that’s it. There won’t be a second chance. I was never initiated into the deeper mysteries of the coven, since I had agreed to take the teaching position here, so I can’t even tell you what might happen, or how long they’ll confer.”

“But?” Jihoon asked, hope igniting in him.

“But,” she said with a sigh, “I will ask at least. You’re wise enough to keep your request small, and your Headmistress tells me you’re not afraid to fight. For the moment, I want you to do two things for me. I want you to think hard about your life, and where you might not have looked for help, and who might miss you if you’re not there. Think about it critically. The other… I’m going to need you to rest out as much as you can. Eat what the Nissers give you, don’t strain yourself too much in class, gather up as much energy as you can.” She paused. “Keep your head down in saga training.”

The way she said that, oddly guarded, frightened Jihoon more than he thought it would.  _ Does she know how bad it’s getting?  _ “Yes, ma’am,” he said carefully. 

Professor Bach tilted her head. “Finish your tea, dear,” she said at length. “Then straight to bed for sleep.”

Jihoon did as she ordered, deeply conflicted. 

_ What did she mean, think about it critically? It’s not like there are  _ that  _ many people who would miss me, right? Perhaps Jeonghan-hyung and Seungkwanie? I don't have that many friends... _

* * *

_ Approaching curfew, Langhus, 21 October 2020 _

Seungkwan hustled to their room from dinner to go and pick up his things for study, cheerfully humming for the first time in weeks. Today had been the best day of his life at Durmstrang -- that Natural Magics lesson had totally changed his mood, and hearing of the downfall of the girl that tortured him in Competitive Duelling had just been the cherry on the cake. 

_ That curse from Soonyoung-hyung is nasty,  _ he thought happily.  _ I wonder how he structured it on the design side? Did Jun-hyung and that Wonwoo help him? I’m so  _ happy _ she’s going to be out for a few days. If the Wonwoo guy really did help, I wonder how I could thank him?  _

He still didn’t have an answer as he collected his things and made for the library. He was so intent on it that he didn’t notice the people blocking the way, just detoured around them to approach the library from another way. Moments later, that route was cut off as well, and he looked up and felt his heart sink into his boots.  _ Oh no. It’s those people from Competitive Duelling. Are they angry that Danika’s been put in the medical wing? What do they want with me? _

“It looks like you’re not getting the message, half-blood,” a tall blonde guy sneered. “Nor is that mudblood champion of yours. How much longer are you going to soil our school with your presence? And you have the audacity to attack a decent student when she’s kind enough to point out your flaws. We don’t  _ want _ you here, half-blood. How much plainer do we have to make the message?”

“Um,” Seungkwan began. “Technically, your school invited us, so I’m not sure…”

“I could have told you he’s not going to get it, Gregor,” a girl in the back of the pack drawled. “They’ve all been poisoned by that freak Seventh Year of theirs to think that they can get away with anything. He’s not going to believe you until we make him believe you.”

Seungkwan’s heart beat so fast he didn’t know how it bore it, and adrenaline flushed painfully through his veins.  _ I should run, this is turning nasty, I don’t want to cause… _

His thoughts stuttered and he thought of what the  _ Stallari _ had said to him, and what he had been letting these people do to him. They’ve been treating him like filth, like a carpet to wipe their feet on; Seungkwan was so surprised to feel that current of temper that he had tried to bury rear its head that it surprised him when it rose thick and fast. These people were so much like his father’s family that it sickened him. He had been soaking up family bullshit for fifteen years, and he was  _ tired _ . 

“You’re wrong,” he said, dimly aware that his voice was frosty-cool as he got out his wand. “I’ve been staying silent because I don’t want to be touched by your scum. Little boys and girls, too stupid to have original thoughts so they have to listen to their families. Also, for your information, if you  _ ever _ say anything against Yoon Jeonghan-ssi again, I’m going to stop being polite, okay? I…”

One of the boys laughed loudly. “You want to talk about family? It’s amazing your father slept with that subhuman whore you call a mother. How could he lower himself to touch trash like that? You want to fight us?  _ Us? _ I’m in Drang 7, you fat little fool, I’ll wipe the floor with you!”

“I challenge you!” Seungkwan shouted over him, uncaring that his voice rang down the passage. “All of you, one after the other! A proper duel! You think I’m afraid? After what you just said about my parents? Come on! Let’s go right now!”

The boy smirked and pulled out his wand. “You think I’m going to lower myself to duel with you?” he laughed. “No. We can just do it  _ right here _ and you’ll face all of us.”

“No,” came a voice from the side; it wasn’t very loud but it was  _ cold _ . Seconds later, stepping from a cross-corridor behind the group of Durmstrang students, Vernon Chwe revealed himself, light brown gaze freezing. “Challenge has been given. There is a formal form for challenges. You either accept, or you retract your words, or I’ll inform the staff that Durmstrang honour means nothing to you.”

“Fuck off, Chwe!” the boy yelled. “I don’t cower because of you, you…”

Seungkwan watched, lip tugged back, as the boy’s mouth simply  _ went away _ somehow, lips growing together as if he never had one in the first place. 

“Strike one,” Vernon Chwe said. “Nod once for a duel, or shake your head for the Jarl. I…”

The boy gave a muffled moaning sound, but finally nodded, and panted as his mouth suddenly appeared again. “Fine,” he snarled. “All that you accomplished is that I’m not going to go easy on him anymore.”

“Bring it,” Seungkwan snarled back. “I don’t need  _ anyone _ to go easy on me!”

The walk through the corridors back to  _ Stavkirk  _ Tyr began silently, but by the time they had gotten to the closest of the duelling platforms they had gathered a sizable entourage from all three schools. Seungkwan didn’t have much use for anyone except Jeonghan- _hyung_ , who gave him a simple nod; instead, as he stripped his jacket off and jumped onto the platform he only had eyes for his opponent. And that’s all the boy was, just another opponent, and  _ fuck _ what had happened at the IDC qualifiers. 

“What’s going on?” a woman’s voice asked, and seconds later Professor Afer pressed through the crowd. “What’s this, a duel?”

One of the other toadies immediately started complaining, but Vernon Chwe’s voice cut through the noise. “Challenge was given by Champion Boo Seungkwan,” he said quietly. “Instead of accepting the challenge or retracting his blood purist insults about Champion Boo’s mother and Champion Kwon, Dmitriy insinuated he’d rather just attack him en masse in the corridor along with the rest of his group, and disregarded Durmstrang honour.”

The room fell silent as Professor Afer’s brows first rose, then pressed down into a low frown. “Students,” she barked. “Make space for the  _ Herra _ years. Since Rodionovich chose to embarrass us, let them all see what happens since their pride is on the line too.”

Seungkwan watched, feeling queasy and speechless, as the crowd just grew and grew -- he had seen tiny children running around the  _ Langhus _ , but to make them watch a duel?

The professor jumped up onto the podium as the people settled, and stared them both down. “I want a clean duel,” she growled. “Nothing that would violate IDC rules, since you’re both duellers. No permanent disabilities, no death, and avoid Category 5 curses and hexes. I will be adjudicating. Given the terms, I won’t make you shake hands.” She crossed to the very edge of the podium and jumped off without looking, landing solidly on her feet.

For a second the nausea threatened to overwhelm Seungkwan, until he looked at the boy’s hateful face and remembered what he had said. His queasiness transmuted back into anger so quickly it stole his breath.

“Three…” Professor Afer counted down. “Two…”

“ _Locomotor Mortis_!” Dmitriy snapped out, ignoring the countdown: his wand spat the curse out with the ease of someone used to cursing others, and he slipped into duelling position.

Seungkwan’s temper inflamed and he waved his wand in a short circle, so angry that he forgot to verbalise the charm. His wand purred in his hand, feeling distinctly pleased, and a vast spherical shield of energy formed around him; the dome rang with the force of the Leg-locker curse slamming into it, but didn’t break.

“ _Petrificus Totalis_!” the Durmstrang boy shouted. “ _Calvorio_!”

_ Strange,  _ Seungkwan thought, light-headed with anger.  _ It’s not even doing anything except tickling my shield.  _ “Professor!” he called loudly to the side where Afer was choking on her tongue with sheer indignation. “Professor, could you put up some spectator wards, please?”

She didn’t answer, but Seungkwan watched from the corner of his eye as the wards grew, whilst Dmitriy was getting closer and closer. When they rose high enough to protect the little kids, he gave a long, slow sigh and centered himself.

“ _Tarantallegra_!” Dmitriy called out, his aim growing more and more choppy the longer Seungkwan’s shield held. “ _Stupefy_! **Bombarda**!”

_ Jeonghan- _ hyung _ ,  _ Seungkwan thought dimly.  _ This boy has nothing on you. _

“What’s the matter?” he asked out loud. “You can’t get past a fat half-blood’s shield? My _muggleborn_ _hyung_ had me grounded in a second flat, where’s that power you talked about?” He pushed forward one step, then two: it wasn’t even a duel by now -- he felt the power flowing freely through him for the first time in forever; it felt as if he could keep the shield strong for hours. “Are you ready to apologise yet? Take back what you said?”

Dmitriy turned white with indignation as his wand lashed again and again, casting wordless fire against Seungkwan’s shield. “As if I’d ever apologise to that mudblood slut mother…”

“ _Bombarda_ ,” Seungkwan said almost gently, and felt his wand kick in his hand. His other gestured in the air, a mere wiggle of movement.

The curse blasted Dmitriy up and off his feet, smashing through the wall of the classroom, and the one beyond that; Seungkwan let his shield drop as kids and adults alike scattered away from the hole with screams of indignation and fear. “He’s not dead,” he said distantly. “I wrapped him in a cushioning charm.”

The room was very, very silent as Afer scrambled to go and check; when she came back she nodded to Seungkwan and gave him a thin smile. “Match,” she said. “Boo Seungkwan wins by magical knockout. Challenger Rodionovich is unharmed; I sent him to the Jarl’s office.”

Vernon cleared his throat. “Champion Boo challenged all the people in the hall at that time,” he informed her. “I can remember their names, if you wish.”

“Oh?” she said, and turned her head. “Who’s the next one?”

Seungkwan, feeling filled with energy, bounced up and down on his tiptoes, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. “I’ll accept an apology,” he said. “If one of them can take their heads out of their asses long enough to do so… sorry, Professor.”

Professor Afer bent him a humored glare, but said nothing, preferring to stare the students down.

Five minutes later, after an apology that was fulsome, if not heartfelt, Seungkwan hummed even louder as he jumped off the platform and made for Vernon Chwe. He beamed at him, bright and happy. “Thank you,” he said earnestly. “Just… thank you. I’ll remember this.” Giving another smile, he turned to leave, eager to get to the library and tell Soonyoung-hyung his honour had been avenged as well.

* * *

_ Just before curfew, Seungcheol's rooms: _

Seungcheol’s headache, earlier tamed only with a headache potion, returned with a vengeance as Vernon and Wonwoo stomped into his bedroom without so much as a by-your-leave. Not even five hours and a very healthy glass of mead at dinner had made the day any better, and he felt in zero mood to deal with any more shit. “What?” he barked. “Did my closed door turn into a turnstyle? It's almost curfew!”

Wonwoo ignored him as if he hadn’t spoken. “We have an issue. You said that Boo Seungkwan seemed a bit more powerful than Hansol here.”

Seungcheol tried to cudgel his brain into thinking form. “I had a discussion with him, yes, and I think I said he was a little more powerful than Hansol, or it seemed that way?”

Vernon seated himself on the foot of Seungcheol’s bed. “Dmitriy Rodionovich and his gang of attendants decided to ambush him in the corridors tonight,” he explained. “Likely because Danika Tarasovna wasn’t around to act as his brain. Boo Seungkwan challenged him regarding some comments, and he saw fit not only to reject it, but to threaten him with an immediate mass attack. I had to shame him into accepting by offering to go to the Jarl.”

Seungcheol held up a finger. “Wait. Rodionovich just shat all over everything we’re taught here and that’s not the problem?”

“No,” Wonwoo said shortly as he hooked a chair closer to straddle. “Hansol-ah, tell him.”

Hansol took a deep breath. “I took them to the Tyr duelling platform, and Professor Afer showed up. She called in the children and started the countdown, and Dmitriy jumped it. He attacked early, but somehow Boo Seungkwan got a shield up in time, and he asked Professor Afer to put up the warding shields. She seemed too angry at Rodionovich to function, so I put them up myself. Then Rodionovich made the mistake of calling Boo Seungkwan’s mother a mudblood slut and Boo Seungkwan’s  _ Bombarda  _ blew him through two walls.”

Seungcheol blinked and sat up. “What? Is he dead? I thought you said you had wards up!”

“I had wards up,” Hansol confirmed. “He blew straight through them. And no, the idiot isn’t dead. Boo Seungkwan somehow managed to catch him with a Cushioning charm whilst he was blowing him through the wall. No one got hurt, except their egos. Not only did he do that, but he didn’t even blink or look winded afterwards.”

Wonwoo thumped his hand one the back of his chair. “Do you know what that takes?” he ranted. “Casting another spell whilst you’re on the heels of a spell that powerful? Is Boo Seungkwan capable of dual-casting? Wandless magic?”

Vernon took another deep breath. “Hyung,” he said quietly. “Boo Seungkwan is a very conflicted person -- I don’t even need to study Legilimency to know that -- so I’m telling you this now. If he gets his shit together this competition is over. Between him and those sixth years of theirs, they’ll run over everyone else. Don’t give them any more of a reason to hate this school. Talk to the guys, ask them to back off, or we’re going to lose this.”

_ How did it get this bad? Did I enable them somehow by hating Jeonghan as much as I did? Did they take their cues from me?  _ Seungcheol’s mind whirled with thoughts, until something in him finally snapped.

“No,” he said tiredly. “No, you know what? I’m going to speak to the Jarl and ask if she can maybe look into the matter. I don’t have any proof, but if the upper years are this brave and this corrupted already, she has to know that Afanasievna is behind it. I just don’t know how we’re going to prove it.”

Wonwoo stared at him, and finally sighed. “I’ll volunteer my memories,” he said shortly. “Then there won’t be any unpleasantness with Yoon Jeonghan being falsely accused again; it might break him this time. Besides, I’m  _ done _ . She’s run roughshod over my training sessions so many times I’ve had it. Tell the Jarl, and tell her that I’ll stand as evidence. I’ve heard everything that she said to the others, and Professor Germanovich should be able to extract that.”

Seungcheol boggled; at his side, Vernon looked equally as surprised. “You’d do that?” he asked incredulously. “Really?”

“Yes,” Wonwoo said. “And then, when the pressure is off them, we are going to sit down, and we’re going to work out how to win this thing before they get back on track and Jun decides to come for me..” He paused. “That is, if Jun even  _ speaks _ to me after what happened today.” He looked stolidly at Seungcheol. “And you, hyung… I’m sorry for saying it like this, I really am, and you can challenge me if you want, but you need to pull your head out of your ass and start thinking tactically, not wandering around blind with anger shunning people. I’d really like to have my leader back and functioning.”

Swallowing, Seungcheol nodded and stood. He bowed to Wonwoo, shuffled his boots and coat back on, and took his wand, leaving them behind to seek out the Jarl.

* * *

The Jarl looked down into the fire in her study, brows fiercely knit. “This is a very serious accusation,” she finally said, glancing sideways to Seungcheol. “You know it is.”

Seungcheol wasn’t sure his spine could pull any more to attention, but the walk here had been illuminating some of the clouds in his head as of late, and there had been no way he could turn around. “Yes, Jarl,” he confirmed. “But we have proof.”

Jarl Elektra grimaced as she waved at a chair. “Sit down before you break something. You look like life decided to hang you out for the  _ svartalfar. _ ” She watched him until he sat before taking her ease as well, giving a long groan. “You can hardly be ignorant of the politics of this school and the situation you will be in bringing this complaint.”

“I’m fully aware of the politics,” Seungcheol muttered, sinking down onto a chair. “But I’m the safest one to bring the complaint. My family has been fully in support of your position in reforming the school; they have had their fair share of problems regarding my mother’s position as well. All I ask is that the source of the proof will be kept as anonymous as possible.”

She tilted her head. “Who are we talking about?”

“Jeon Wonwoo.”

Seungcheol saw her expression spasm, but she got it under control admirably fast. “He feels that it not only is now that the other schools are here, but that it has been institutionalised for so long that it has become something of a tradition at the school again. He has offered that Professor Germanovich look at his memories -- he feels that he is less likely to be accused of mental malpractice than some of the other, um, schools might be.” He paused. “He is, however, angrier about this that I’ve given him credit for being able to feel.”

“The one thing you must learn still, Seungcheol, is that people like Jeon Wonwoo will never show you they are angry; one day, however, they will explode in your face and then it will be that mess with Erja Vanhatalo all over again.” The Jarl lifted her shoulders. “I should have noticed it as well.  Last year's debacle with Ms. Escover and Mr. Jeon Bohyuk should have alerted me. ”

Seungcheol vaguely remembered an issue with the Escover witch last year. She would have been in Drang Fifth, had she not rescinded her enrollment offer and chose to transfer to Hogwarts Scotland instead. She had been a quiet muggle-born that often hung around Wonwoo's little brother, but he didn't understand how it could be connected to Vanhatalo. He boggled.  “Black Erja? Erja the Necromancer?”

Jarl Elektra gave him a small nod. “Her. Quiet and brilliant, and much like Jeon Wonwoo really -- except that no one noticed her cropping up hatred far too long, and then it was corpses and cannibalism.”

Seungcheol shivered. “Gods, I hope not. I’ll pay closer attention to him from now on.” His fingers twined together nervously. “Will you be able to start an investigation?”

She nodded solemnly. “Tell Vernon Chwe to take Wonwoo with him and make an appointment with Professor Germanovich. I’m sure the other Heads are lining up to shout at me, so that should keep them back momentarily. What about yourself? Any issues?”

Seungcheol blinked. “Jarl?” he asked. “I’m not quite following?”

Another sigh from her. “Seungcheol, this time next year you will be calling me Elektra. It’s likely that you will graduate at the top of your year, and I’m already planning on getting you back here as a lecturer one day. I don’t think it’s a weakness to ask how you feel, and how you’re coping with the pressure of the tournament. It’s been a very messy two years for you.”

Seungcheol dropped his eyes to the woodgrain of the desk and considered his answer. “It’s been tough,” he finally answered. “It’s finally dawning on me how tough, and how wrong I might have been about certain… certain issues. It’s something I have to sort out on my own, however; no matter what honour is at stake on this tournament, this is also the point where I have to start looking beyond childish things, right?”

“The hardest period of any,” Jarl Elektra said quietly. “Save one day seeing your own children make mistakes and have to learn.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for your information, Stallari, I will begin the investigation immediately. You may assure Radningar Jeon that I will take every precaution to assure his anonymity. Is there anything else?”

“No,” Seungcheol said immediately and stood, bowing to her. He realised the dismissal, and the grace she was extending in not prying into his feelings. “Good day, Jarl.” He waited for her nod and scooted out, feeling a slight bit of the tension gathered at the base of his neck crack.

* * *

_ Past midnight, Houseketeers Room, Langhus: _

“Are you lot ready?” came a voice in the middle of the night  that sounded a lot like an overexcited Kim Mingyu. 

Chan turned in his bed, barely able to keep his groan in. He could remember a night like this just a few days back. D _ eja vu... _

A good half of him wished they could just forget about this plan and set it for another day, but it seemed as if Seungkwan’s monumental defeat of the home-grown thugs coupled with Soonyoung- _hyung_ ’s insane smackdown of that harpy had ignited a fire of rebellion. Usually, he would be up for it, but the clock said 1AM and he had saga training at damn o’clock.

_ I should be sleeping. _

Chan yawned sorrowfully, but still, he sat up, rubbing at his bleary eyes and bent over his bed railing to stare at Mingyu who was peeking at him from the bottom bunk with an impish grin. “Really, _hyung_?”

“Yes,”  Mingyu answered with a solemn nod. “Tonight’s the night. If we do it tonight, I feel that there would be a huge shift.” 

Jun- _hyung_ snorted from the bottom bunk of the other bed. “There’d be a huge shift alright, Gyu. With the way everything is crumbling right now, it’d probably undo everything that Soonyoung and Seungkwan just proved.” 

Mingyu narrowed his eyes at the Hufflepuff prefect who was still laying in bed. “ _Hyung_! You agreed that tonight would be perfect just at dinner? Are you changing your mind now?”

Junhui hummed as he brought himself up on his elbows to be at Mingyu’s eye level. “I know I agreed to it during dinner, but that was before the duel happened. Believe me, I’d love to get one over these trolls as well, but I don’t want to jeopardise anything right now. I’m as angry as you guys are, but I’d rather we think about this more.”

“What’s there to think about?” Mingyu got out in a hush. “This is the right moment, I could feel it, don’t you trust me, _hyung_?” 

Chan, not wanting Jun- _hyung_ to reject Mingyu a second time, nipped the blossoming argument to a bud. A pillow thrown right at the unexpectedly quiet, and sole Gryffindor in the room brought about a series of hacking coughs. "Soonyoung- _hyung_ what do you think?"

_ It couldn't have been that dusty could it? _

Chan sniffed at his remaining pillow, found nothing suspicious and regarded it as his _hyung_ just being overdramatic. In the background, Soonyoung- _hyung_ coughed out throatily, asking for water. He rolled his tired eyes. 

Jun- _hyung_ ,  _ Woochi-nim bless him _ , has quickly _ Accio-ed  _ a plastic bottle from their Quidditch training bags and Mingyu immediately charmed it to be filled with water. Just then, Chan sensed a tickle at the back of his throat. 

_ It's either sympathy pain that is a bitch, or it could be karma.  _

Chan cleared his throat wishing he could take a drink. With three large gulps, the Gryffindor champion finished the bottle, and upon hearing him unsuccessfully hide a cough, Soonyoung hyung threw the emptied bottle at him. The older Champion beamed at him cheekily.

“ Let's do it after the first task," Soonyoung  hyung decided as soon as Chan caught the bottle.

Mingyu was ready to protest, but Chan shoved the bottle at him for a water refill which the Hufflepuff 5th year reluctantly provided. Chan muttered a thanks and chugged the water down.

"If we get penalised then, it’s still a while before the second task,"  Soonyoung hyung explained. "I don't think Jihoonie would be up for the upcoming first task and I really don't wanna mess up before the competition could even begin, I owe it to him at the very least."

“Nice thinking, _hyung_ ,”  Chan agreed, nodding in enthusiasm as he placed the now empty bottle near his pillow.

"But, there is nothing about disqualification in the competition, right?" Mingyu asked, a shadow of a frown forming on his face.

"Even so," Soonyoung hyung started in a pacifying voice. "It can help to lie low a little bit. Let's not make any problems for ourselves just yet."

"Right now it's Durmstrang that's doing all the dirty work and we've trounced them using their own rules. Let's bask in that," Junhui hyung added sagely.

And when Mingyu still looked unconvinced, Soonyoung- _hyung_ divulged the most important reason. "Besides, just imagine how apoplectic Jeonghan- _hyung_ would be if we get detention before we could even win in a task! I prefer going back to Udo with all my limbs intact."

The crease in Mingyu's brows slowly disappeared only to be replaced with a fearful grimace at Soonyoung- _hyung_ 's full explanation. "You're right, _hyung_ …"

Chan breathed a little better now, thankful a sleep-deprived tiff has been avoided. 

"So we're in agreement then? We sneak out sometime after the first task?" Jun- _hyung_ quipped from below.

Mingyu hyung sighed but held out a fist. "Alright, I'm in."

Chan reached over his bunk's safety railing and fistbumped Mingyu. "I'm in too!"

"Of course! Just imagine how disastrous our sneaking out would be if we went in unprepared! We've got to knock their socks off right?!" Jun- _hyung_ thrusted a fist out and grinned at Soonyoung- _hyung_ expectantly.

"These guys won't even know what hit them!" Soonyoung- _hyung_ promised, and finally, their four-man fist bump was completed. The Houseketeers raised their fists up and scream-whispered a ' _ Hwaiting!' _ , before they went back to their own beds and chased sleep again.

Soon, the room descended into a symphony of little huffs and gentle snores. Chan, who had been somnolent and anxious about the early morning saga training just a few minutes ago, now had his eyes glued to the quaint stone ceiling above him. He recalled all the shocked faces at Seungkwan's first ever Durmstrang duel and remembering the sheer pride in Jun- _hyung_ 's voice with his recollection of Soonyoung-hyung's throwdown; he couldn't help but smirk indulgently. 

_ Ah, that's right, Durmstrang, you haven't even seen the best of us. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * The hex Soonyoung used was _Corpus Variabilis_ , a hex Soonyoung worked out in Transfiguration class that changes your body parts into different animal parts. Not life threatening but extremely embarrassing and requiring some effort to turn it back. 
>   * In this AU, because Veela are creatures of air and fire, they clash with Sirens, who are more water-aspected; Joshua is half-Siren, which accounts for his extreme beauty. 
>   * (Jeon) Woochi is a Taoist wizard from the Joseon Dynasty who is considered to be a most gifted student who had also saved Korea from evil. 
> 



	11. CHAP: First Task, Part I

_ Before supper, 23 October 2020: _

Tired to the bone, Vernon made his way back to his room and collapsed on the thin bed, slowly unbuckling his outer layers. The second saga training had been very,  _ very _ quiet today and everyone had behaved themselves scrupulously, with the outcome that they had worked harder than ever before. He wished it hadn’t been because everyone was newly afraid of Boo Seungkwan, but perhaps he did his fellow students a disservice, and it was respect instead.

His shoulders worked to offset the tension in them as he stood, and not for the first time he nearly said a prayer of gratitude that being a student leader and ambassador meant he had his own tiny little room with his own tiny little shower. Even if he barely fit into it, it was a luxury and it was his, and he wouldn’t give it up for the world. Casting a Tempus at the wall, he got in with a grimace at the cold tiles.

Four hours of one-on-one Transfiguration tutoring from Seungcheol- _ hyung _ hadn’t helped either; the guy expected perfection and expected it  _ quickly _ . Vernon’s magical core felt like a limp cabbage.

He soaped up and spent a moment luxuriating under the magically heated water as he thought of previous years and cold showers, sharing them with nine other guys and having a strict time limit of two minutes. This year felt positively luxurious compared to that. 

_ Fuck. We have the weighing of the wands later on. I’m really not in the mood for that. I just want to forget about this whole tournament.  _

Unbidden his mind presented him with things that he’d miss about the tournament: the excitement of competing, the influx of new ideas, the tilt of a certain someone’s smile. It had caught him by surprise: he had been fully willing to hate the Udo students with the force of a thousand suns, but they were tricky. Sly. The whole situation was tricky; he didn’t know what was going on with Seungcheol- _ hyung _ these days, and the mind magics class with the two Udo students had just confused him. It was patently clear from what Blix had said afterwards that there was no way Yoon Jeonghan could have been a cunning saboteur, given how sloppy he was even now.

Sloppy. It wasn’t a word he really associated with Yoon Jeonghan, and it cracked the image he had of him, made him a little more human and a little less future Machiavellian politician. 

It was strange, really. He had expected them to be one thing, but the vibes he was getting were totally the opposite.

He lifted his head to wash the last of the rinse out and switched off the shower, checking the Tempus he had cast earlier, wincing as it counted down the last seconds of his self-allotted time. He didn’t know why he let the Hogwarts guys have so much free real estate in his mind these days, and the people he would have talked to had their own issues.

Thirty minutes later, hair neat and a clean uniform on, he cast a quick clean-up charm his mother had taught him and made for supper. It was perhaps his bad luck that saw him sitting close to the group the others gossiped about as ‘Houseketeers’; it meant that seconds later not only Lee Chan turned to greet him, but that Boo Seungkwan shyly asked if he could sit there as well. 

Some days Vernon speculated that he would have been better off if Boo Seungkwan had remained an anonymous opponent on the other end of a wand rather than the round-faced, high-cheeked, pouty guy that flopped on the seat next to him.

“Good evening, Radningar Chwe. Did you have a nice training? Hopefully it was tough enough that you can sleep well tonight!”

_ See? Is he saying I don’t train hard enough, or saying I look tired, or… _

He defaulted to politeness, given his fatigue and the very real way he didn’t want to see Boo Seungkwan’s face crumple with a cross-wise comment again. “Yes, thank you, Champion Boo. I’ll undoubtedly sleep well tonight.”

Even that random bit of politeness seemed to suffice, especially when a short form sank down on the other side of their table, laden down with food. 

“Jihoonie- _ hyung _ !” Boo Seungkwan said, voice fond and honeyed. “How are you? How was training?”

Lee Jihoon shot Boo Seungkwan a long look beneath his eyelashes, a shake of head, and just dug into eating; Vernon didn’t know what to say when Boo Seungkwan’s face fell and he set to eating as well.

_ I have to say something, but what? _

Grimacing, he dug his way through a pile of mixed vegetables and steamed fish as his mind cast around for a suitable topic. 

“I… heard that you don’t celebrate Vetrnætr where you’re from, but Halloween?” he asked with some difficulty, forcing the words to come. From the looks they gave him they were markedly surprised: Lee Jihoon’s eyes narrowed and Boo Seungkwan’s eyes widened. “We do not really do that here, it is closer to the old shamanic traditions. I can find you a book if you wish.” He swallowed. “After the weighing of the wands tonight.”

Seungkwan’s nose wrinkled expressively. “Eugh,” he opined. “I’m not looking forward to that.”

“Not me,” Jihoon replied glibly. “Shower and bed. I feel like something large ran all over me.”

Vernon fiddled with his fork, trying to spear some of the decoratively carved vegetable pieces. “Would you like to accompany me?” he asked the younger of the two; he wanted to hate them but it was  _ difficult _ . They were confusing his internal bullshit-meter. “We can walk to the library after the activity completes.”

From the scuffle below the table he gathered that someone had kicked someone else, but he said nothing, merely waited for the answer. 

It was a moment before Seungkwan nodded. “Of course. Thank you for thinking of us. Is, um, is anyone else coming with?”

Vernon shook his head slowly - one person he could deal with but two? No thank you! - and mutely carried on with his meal, cleaning that portion of his plate. 

“You won’t even have to contend with the Brainy Boys if the thing doesn’t take a lot of time and you finish early,” Lee Jihoon muttered around a large mouthful of rice. “One half’s in Astronomy with the  _ pabo _ , so less chance of runic poetry. God, that was embarrassing.”

Seungkwan laughed happily. “We missed it,” he said sideways to Vernon. “But I hear that the Advanced Runes class was very interesting for a session or two there. But did you hear,  _ hyung _ , that…”

Vernon let the conversation flow over him, offering the odd grunt or comment when they paused to look at him, but it seemed the other two were happy to carry the conversation for him. There was something restful about it; there was plenty of drama but none of it involved him and he was happy for that. He caught his sister’s eye once - Sofia waggled her eyebrows at him - and didn’t look up for the rest of the meal. It was at the end of the meal when he took everyone’s dishes and carried it away that he realised it hadn’t been too bad, though the noise from the table behind him had not ended for a single moment. 

When he returned they had already cleaned the table down and were just chatting. He felt unequal to the task of sitting down and making casual conversation, and thought back for  _ anything _ that might make this…

Wait. 

_ Okay. How had Wonwoo made this look easy? _

Clearing his throat, Vernon stepped up to the corner of the table. “Champion Boo,” he said formally. “Since Champion Lee here is going to bed soon, would you perhaps like to walk to the Weighing of the Wands ceremony?” Nervously, unsure whether he could do it with the same cool flair as Wonwoo, he held out an arm for him. “It would be my honour to escort you.”

Seungkwan’s eyes widened again; he looked at Jihoon quickly, who was watching with an inscrutable look on his face. Clearing his throat he nodded quickly, stood and gingerly rested a hand on Vernon’s arm. “Um, thank you,  _ Radningar _ Chwe.”

“Thank you for looking after my  _ dongsaeng _ ,  _ Radningar _ Chwe,” Jihoon added, some hidden depth to his eyes. 

Vernon nodded woodenly and led Seungkwan from the table, uncertain on the whole whether he hadn’t made his situation worse. 

* * *

Evening 23 October 2020, Staff Conference Room:

Sometimes, when it was  close to the curfew , Jun liked to walk through the  _ Langhus _ with his eyes closed, just so that he could imagine what it would be like to someone that couldn’t see what he saw. For him each angle was unique and precious, even though it was all utilitarian; he could walk from one side to the other merely by the way the spaces around him spoke to him. It wasn’t just the structure, but the odd almost-invisible wight, or a person trailing a particularly interesting trail of magic. 

Things had changed for him after that first meeting with Nuwa, not to mention the subsequent chats that they had. The dragon had been absolutely lovely, as patient as Wonwoo when it came to his ramblings about the numbers he saw and what they meant. 

It made sense after that discussion they had had on blood magic, really. He could see little curves and spirals here and there that shouted Wonwoo to him; even with the universe ticking down over his head like a vast, weighty orrery he could tell that. 

He blinked as Soonyoung stepped from a side corridor, bumping into his shoulder. His friend looked tired but refined somehow. People weren’t to understand divine reasoning, but the difficulty of the past days was there in the cant of his sharp eyes and the thinning of his jawline. Kwon Soonyoung wasn’t just a boy any longer, but an explosion ready to happen.

Jun reached out to sling his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Mr. Champion,” he said jokingly. “You overwhelm me with your presence.”

“Shut it,” Soonyoung muttered. “This is the first time in a day that I’ve been close enough anyway, normally you’re out and about with that guy.”

_ Not jealousy,  _ Jun thought.  _ Not jealousy but something else.  _ Aloud, smirking beneath his heavy eyes, he pinched one of Soonyoung’s cheeks. “I’m not telling him our secrets, you know? You’re still my best man.”

Soonyoung responded with an eye-roll. “I know. Why are you here?”

Jun grinned when, despite Soonyoung’s cranky words, he slowed down enough to match step like they always did. “I’m here to support the school. They did say everyone could at least come and watch, even if our wands aren’t specifically being checked. I…”

They both fell silent when a soft squeaking interrupted them. Casting around, Jun didn’t see the mouse until he was almost on top of it, when Soonyoung pulled him back. He watched as his friend leant down and held up his hand -- the mouse scurried into it as if it didn’t fear a much larger predator -- and sat down to squeak again. Rapidly this time, not frantically but urgently. He watched as Soonyoung listened to it with a tilted head before making for one of the impressively carved pillars and holding his hand up.

The mouse disappeared up into the rafters as if it never had been. 

“...what?” Jun finally said. “Since when are you the Mouse Whisperer?”

“Dude,” Soonyoung said, slanted eyes widening. “You’re listening too much to that skald and his wild Durmstrang stories. I was just helping a bro out, clearly it was afraid and wanted to get away. Not that I blame them, they possibly kill everything that’s not directly useful around here.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ . Jun didn’t know what to say to that. Wonwoo had some pretty strange stories, true, but that wasn’t it: the more he looked the more the curve of geometry that made Kwon Soonyoung twisted and warped into something unexpected but entirely elegant. “Come on. You know that’s just that bitch they’ve got doing training.” He reached to ruffle Soonyoung’s hair and pulled him back to his side again. “Steady on. We need to get to the thing.”

They walked without conversation, sharing body heat like best friends did. Jun ignored the faint trills of music that tried to tell him something momentous had happened, and concentrated on delivering Soonyoung to…

“Soonyoungie!” a very rich voice trilled out, and Beauxbatons’ Lee Seokmin descended on them the moment that they stepped into the room. Jun watched, amazed, as the two of them went through a highly intricate handshake which ended with chests being bumped together and some kind of weird little song and…

_ Have I been this out of touch with what’s been going on? _

“Attention,” a voice called from the front of the room and Jun turned to watch Jarl Elektra - glaring at Headmistress Mett as always - rapped her knuckles on a table. “Those that are participating in the upcoming task, approach.” Her other hand waved a thin, tall, bearded fellow closer. “This is Master Wandsman Ural Gregorovitch, who will be examining your wands. As the reigning champions of this Tournament, Udo Hogwarts will go first.”

Jun’s eyelids lowered a little more; the room felt charged with magic as Seungkwan-ah, Soonyoung and Jeonghan-hyung ventured forward. It felt so thick he felt as if he could see the streams; feeling a heavy gaze he looked up and grimaced a smile at Nuwa’s knowing look. 

“Well then,” the wandmaker said, twisting his head from side to side to make his neck crack. “You first, boy,” he said to Seungkwan, and held out his hand. 

_ Poor Seungkwanie. _

Watching Seungkwan bite his lip and gingerly settle his wand into the man’s waiting hand, Jun expected to see something strange, a shifting in the numbers around him, but there was nothing, merely a slightly honey-scented length of wood being examined. 

The wandmaker frowned at the wand, lifted it to his nose to sniff at it, rubbed thumbs along the long, simple shape of it. There was a very small quirk in the corner of his mouth as he looked up at Seungkwan. “You use honey-wax to polish it?” he asked in a low, rough voice, and nodded as Seungkwan mumbled out a yes. “Very flexible.” For the barest moment, after he waved the wand, music sounded - something Gregorian - before he handed the wand back to Seungkwan. “Very sure of its opinions though. Perfectly functional.”

Jun wanted to laugh at the expression on Seungkwan’s face. From the look of it, he had been expecting something else; he stumbled back with a bow, scooting back to the Headmistress’ side, and looked down to boggle at his wand with a tetchy but happy smile.

“Watch,” a voice said at his shoulder.  _ Nuwa _ . “You see the currents?”

Jun shot a surprised look at her, but watched as directed: it seemed to dance in the corner of his eye like a ghost before it clicked for him. Between one blink and the next the numbers uncurled, fern-like, shifting him to another level of sight: there were so many streams of magic in here that it nearly deafened him, and the way they flowed said surprising things: great flowers of magic burning not in the chest as he would have expected but the belly, constantly shifting colours. 

“Next!” he head above the magic and felt heat leave his side as Soonyoung stepped forward.  _ He _ glowed red and orange and yellow, a fire-flower that spoke of agitation to Jun: the petals of the flower burning in his stomach were whispering and rubbing against each other, constantly threatening to unfurl. His hand held out a nova of power, glowing and burning, jacketed by something that turned it into a sunrise of surprising force: pinks and golds and oranges radiating over his hand.

Between one blink and the next Jun lost it, torn from that understanding by the wandmaker’s voice.

“Ah!” the man said. “How interesting. A little scratched and banged-up, but understandable. Ironically lovely.” The wand danced between his fingertips before he handed it back to Soonyoung haft-first. “I shan’t sport with its tolerance, but very definitely functional.”

Jun felt eyes on him and turned from the ceremony to look. It was the thin Chinese guy from Beauxbatons -- his eyes were heavy with some kind of understanding as he looked at Jun, then Nuwa. Sad too, sadder than he would have expected; Jun smiled slowly at him, and was surprised to find it returned. 

_ Interesting. I need to go and speak to him sometime still. For now… ah, Jeonghan-hyung. _

Jeonghan’s expression was very tightly shuttered when he handed his wand to Gregorovitch: perfectly controlled but very shut off indeed, without the warmth that Jun felt privileged to know. 

“Oh ho,” Gregorevitch said as he took the wand, calloused fingertips very delicate with it. “Unusual.”

Jun frowned and watched the Heads of the three schools do the same.

“Oh?” Jeonghan asked in a thin, steady voice. 

Gregorevitch examined the wand from every angle, from the intricate coiling shape of it to the tiny designs carved into the dips of the spirals. “It’s been a long time since I saw a pear wand,” he said simply. “A magnificent specimen… the unicorn hair in here, not what I would expect in an Eastern wand. A herd stallion, I’d wager. Powerful and warm-hearted, saying more of you than you do yourself, young master, I’ll wager. I’m curious… is your whole family given to that core? Perfectly functional.”

Jeonghan considered the man for a few moments before taking his wand back. “No,” he said before stepping back. “I’m the first.”

Gregorevitch gave a soundless ‘ahh’ before he turned to face the three Heads. “Hogwarts Udo may compete; their wands are all functional. May I have Beauxbatons next, please?”

Numbers shifted - for a moment Jun felt dizzy enough to pass out, but Nuwa’s hand steadied him and the pinch of her fingers recalled his clarity. He watched Noémie Batteux step forward and curtsey to Gregorovitch before handing over a wand slightly on the short side, made of a silvery wood that made the wandmaker arch his eyebrows. “Silver lime?”

“A family wand, Monsieur Gregorovitch,” Noémie answered. “My great, great, great-grandfather’s. He lived in that age.”

Gregorovitch unbent enough to smile at her. “Indeed...and dragon heartstring. A most lovely wand, miss.” His heels clicked together as he bowed to hand it back to her. “A credit to your family. Beautifully functional still after all these years.”

Jun caught the vaguest trailing of magic as the wand returned to its clearly pleased owner; a headache was beginning to form between his brows. He reached up to massage at his eyes, not pulling from Nuwa’s side, but secretly happy when Soonyoung scooted closer to his side -- it gave him someone to wrap his arms around and rest his chin on his shoulder. Soonyoung was warm too, and bore his weight with a mere mumble.

Ghyslaine de la Vallière stepped forward next, effortlessly elegant in that simple motion; she too curtsied to Gregorovitch before handing her wand over.

Somehow, it felt right when Jun felt respect welling up in his chest at the thought of the girl taking so much weight off Soonyoung in their saga training. If he hadn’t known his friend was head-over-heels for Lee Jihoon he would certainly have encouraged Soonyoung to hit on her. 

“Ebony,” Gregorevitch said with some surprise. “A particularly old one, it feels like. A very strong core, but I am afraid I have never come across it.”

Ghyslaine tilted her head proudly. “Strands of fabric from the washing of  _ Les Lavandières, _ ” she explained. “In Brittany, where I come from, they are sometimes called  _ kannerezed noz. _ The Washerwomen at the Ford.” 

The words sparked an image in Jun’s head; he had heard the legends before, but it explained the cool-toned blue number sequence that made Ghyslaine’s exquisite face. 

The bow that Gregorovitch gave was just a little more profound, and he handed the wand over with great care. “Unusual, but I can feel the power in it,” he murmured. “One does live and learn.”

Amidst murmuring Ghyslaine stepped back; Hong Jisoo neatly filled the space she had taken, and the soft silks of his indoors clothes whispered as he freed his wand from the arm-holster he had it in. Jun  _ knew _ the boy wasn’t fragile, that he was one of the best duellers of their age range, but the Beauxbatons’ steps and movements had an ineffable quality to them that made ‘ethereal’ an apt label. 

“Master Gregorovitch,” Jisoo greeted smoothly. “How nice to see you again.”

Jun watched, baffled, as Gregorovitch’s expression lit up.

“ _ Dauphin _ !” the wandmaker greeted, and dipped his head. “I should have expected you to be here, yes? Tell me, do you still have that rather unusual wand of yours?”

Jisoo laughed gently and nodded, producing a very pale blonde wand, left almost entirely rough with few decorations on it save the suggestion of some lines carved up the length of it. “As you see.”

“Mhm,” Gregorovitch said, putting it through the same routine as the others. “And still as unpredictable as ever? But then you understand the nature of water, young master, so I doubt that it’s any problem to you. Excellently functional. Do pay my respects to your mother, please.”

Jun saw Seungkwan start as Radningar Chwe stepped up to the wandmaker and presented his wand without comment - worn smooth, but seemingly supple, and very pale, almost white where the other wand had been silver earlier. 

“Master Gregorovitch,” Radningar Chwe said. “It’s agreeable to see you again.”

Jun, uninterested in the pleasantries, looked away and blinked as he saw Mingyu hanging around the back. His presence in the room didn’t startle him so much as the way that magic boiled and curdled around him, growing so chaotic that he couldn’t tell which number began where. His friend’s eyes were clouded with white magic; when he startled and pulled away from Soonyoung, Nuwa squeezed his hand hard. 

“No,” she whispered strictly. “No, what he’s saying will only come to those that need to hear it. Leave it.”

_ Mingyu _ . Jun’s heart ached for him as he watched his tall young friend talk to a surprised-looking Minghao. Looking back to the ceremony, he tried to put it from his mind.

Gregorovitch sighed as he took the wand, measuring the length of it with a murmured charm. “Another wand from the Famous Four,” he muttered. “And, if I remember correctly, the only one Madame Beauvais ever made from anything other than swamp mayhew. It’s serving you well still? No hesitation?”

Radningar Chwe shook his head at the question, famously stoic face relaxing a tad into a small smile. “No problems so far,” he said restfully. “It adapts well to all situations.”

Gregorovitch dismissed him, pronouncing the wand fit for competition; Jun was so busy staring at the way that the light-haired boy walked to go and stand next to Seungkwan again that he almost missed Wonwoo stepping up. They locked eyes just for a second -  _ fighting,  _ Jun thought, smiling - before the aloof Skald nodded to the wandmaker and surrendered his wand for inspection.

Jun inhaled, feeling something low in his belly hitch at the sight of the smooth, silvery-grained grey wood: utterly simple and utterly complex at the same time. The form was a perfect cylinder, and he knew from their meetings that it had a smoothed, symmetrical pattern carved into it, but something about the way the silver grains speckled the wood tonight ignited little flares of insight -- the wand curled numbers around it like a budded fern unfurling into complex patterns of light.

The wand, Jun understood with a single glance, was arithmantically perfect and without deviation; it felt he could see into the wand’s shape to the knotted and braided core inside. Seven-fold patterns repeated over and over as wooden fibres held tiny shining shards of silver in a perfectly repeated pattern. “Grey,” he whispered into Soonyoung’s shoulder, receiving a mumble in reply. Infinite spirals ran through and around it, complex as fractal sets, and underlined exactly how intelligent the Durmstrang skald had to be to get a wand like that to respond to him.

Swallowing, Jun considered whether he had perhaps been misunderstanding a few things about Wonwoo. The sight faded from him as Nuwa let his hand go, but it still lingered at the edges of his mind, teasing at his understanding.

He had somehow missed Seungcheol stepping up, but did not miss the sleek night-coloured wand he held out, and thought about the information they had gotten in the beginning. This wand was far rougher, almost no work done to the outside, but the wandmaker handled it as if it was rare and precious.

“One of my late father’s wands,” Gregorovitch murmured as he took the length of ebony. “Stiff, but as good a match as I’ve ever seen. The core is still functioning for you?”

Stallari Choi had an odd look to his face as he nodded. “It performs well above standard,” he said after a moment of thought. “Your father was an immensely talented man, sir.” He was the first to bow, but the sound of their heels came together, and the wandmaker seemed loath to let the wand return to its owner without one last look at it.

“All the wands presented are in good working condition and upkeep,” he said simply to the Heads that stood off to one side. “You should expect remarkable things.”

The Jarl nodded to him. “Thank you, Master Gregorovitch,” she said calmly, before nodding to the Champions. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day for you. Given the competition, you will not be expected to be at saga training, though breakfast is at the normal hour. Dismissed.”

Jun pulled his weight back from Soonyoung, not without a pinch at one of his cheeks, and straightened, feeling enlightened.  _ Something is happening,  _ he mused to himself as the Udo Hogwarts students moved to walk together.  _ Something great, but I don’t know what. I… _

His attention diverted as he felt a small touch on his sleeve, the barest of brushes from a boy with a seal-laden tunic and deep unhappiness in his eyes. “Xu Minghao,” he murmured, stepping aside. 

“Wen Junhui,” the Beauxbatons boy said. “May we talk?”

Destiny seemed to knock at Junhui’s perceptions and he nodded mutely, too entranced by the filmy veils of singing primes around Minghao’s form to respond verbally.

* * *

_ Morning of the First Task, 24 October, Langhus: _

Mingyu yawned as he braced his elbows against the table and leant forward, feeling his spine crack-crack-crack to release the tension from the thin bunks they slept on. There had been no saga training, luckily, but his body had still insisted on waking up at fuck-o-clock in the morning, desperate for exercise, and the meeting the Houseketeers had had had made it seem even worse.

He felt lucky he wasn’t collapsing into his porridge. 

Seungkwan-ah, Soonyoung-ah and Jeonghan-hyung hadn’t made an appearance yet, likely taking their time in the intricate combat robes they had brought with them. 

Someone was making a great deal of noise, and he blearily looked up to see what was going on. There was a flash of blue - Beauxbatons blue? - and it cost him a little squinting to see that it was Ghyslaine and Noémie, both already dressed in the most fantastical robes he had ever seen. They looked like seafoam dancing on waves, moving with incalculable grace; Mingyu covered his mouth and smiled with a palm as he watched the effect they had on the crowd. 

_ Honestly, they might as well be Veela. Just lucky it’s not me. They look so pretty though. I… _

Mingyu’s thoughts fell silent as the Beauxbatons boys entered after the girls, grateful that his palm covered the way his mouth fell open.

Over the past two weeks he had become friends with most of the other Champions, and had admired Seokmin’s cheerful nature and Minghao’s intelligence. He hadn’t really had much to do with Hong Jisoo, but from what he had seen he had the same gentle, sweet nature to him the others did. He had looked harmless, measured against Choi Seungcheol’s strength and Jeonghan-hyung’s intelligence, and… and…

These weren’t sunshine kids anymore. The three of them loped in like predators; where the girls had flowing outfits on that complimented them, the guys had opted to go for tight and easy to move in. Leather, and he was sure there were a number of Warming Charms on the outfits, but the way the buckles cinched the leather closed and tucked it in close to the body made him uncomfortably aware that he might not be so off the idea of dating as he thought.

It was a  _ miracle _ the girls hadn’t done that, but it clearly didn’t stop the whole  _ Langhus  _ from fantasizing that they did. Whispers followed the little group as they made their way into the Great Hearth, and it… and it…

Shit, they were heading this way.

Mingyu nudged Jihoon-hyung in the side, making sure his attention was on his porridge as he started praying.

Oh. No. Miracles didn’t occur to Kim Mingyu.

“Good morning,” Lee Seokmin greeted, standing aside so that Jisoo could slip into the seat first, then followed him in. 

Jihoon, looking up, narrowed his eyes at them. “Did you guys gain some muscle overnight?” he asked, sounding deeply suspicious. “You look swole, Sunshine King.”

Seokmin gave him a rakish grin, eyes glittering. “Jihoon-hyung, I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you.”

Mingyu risked a look up and grimaced. From here, he felt the eyes settle on their table, not that he could blame them. Hong Jisoo’s shoulders looked ridiculously wide with his waist nipped in like that, and he wasn’t sure how Seokmin’s leather pants still contained his thighs since he could see every inch rippling with muscle. “You look good. Did you dress up to support your ladies?”

Jisoo shot him a look, dark eyes looking down-down-down into him as if he could read Mingyu’s confusion off the back of his skull. “Thank you,” he said with a small sideways smile -- Mingyu could hear a concealed squeal coming from behind him.

“Move up, please.”

Mingyu looked up at the request and felt like swallowing his tongue. Xu Minghao had the same sort of outfit on, but in his case his waist looked thinner than Hong Jisoo’s, and Mingyu could see his arms rippling with thin, flat muscle, the same muscle that made the pants look like a goddamn miracle, and he was smelling nice and.. and…

“Sure,” he managed to get out on a bit of a squeak, moving up a bit, and looked down at his porridge as Xu Minghao slipped in beside him. He felt uneasily aware that he was definitely not as uninterested as he had thought before, and more than aware that if Seokmin-ah hadn’t picked it up Jisoo  _ definitely _ had. His ears coloured at that and the flash-thought of seeing whether he could wrap his hands around Xu Minghao’s waist.

_ Shit,  _ he thought, and hoped one of them wasn’t a Legilimens.  _ Shit shit shit. _

He surreptitiously moved closer to Jihoon under the pretense of giving Xu Minghao some space.

“Minghao made our outfits for us,” Seokmin said happily. “He’s the designer of the group. We dressed up a little so that word can get out there about his designs, you know?” He leant forward in a ripple of toned muscle, hair just a little wild, and stretched one arm out over the table. “See here?”

Mingyu had to squint to see it, but when he did he couldn’t unsee it: there were rows and rows of tiny sigils, so tiny he had thought they were lines of decoration at first. 

“Heat control, friction control… our Minghao is so talented,” Hong Jisoo said, talking as his hand pushed an extra bowl of rice in Jihoon’s direction. “Eat, Jihoonie. Hannie tells me that you tend to skip meals, and he’s not here to scold you.”

Mingyu looked, and felt his morning implode. The universe really was against him.

“Thank you for what you said last night,” Minghao muttered as Seokmin pulled his arm back. “About the world being an ocean to fill with talent, and that one shouldn’t just stay on the safe shore. I will treasure those words, I promise.”

Mingyu stared sideways and wondered whether he could go back to pretending not to be interested in anyone.

“Sure,” he croaked out. “Sure.”

“Minghao,” goddamned Hong Jisoo smiled. “Mingyu is as tall as my model friends, right? You should give him some pointers too.”

Mingyu suffered through Xu Minghao giving him a measuring up-and-down. “You don’t have to do that,” he mumbled around his mouthful of food. “I’m not model quality.”

Xu Minghao ignored him utterly, and nodded to Hong Jisoo. “Leave it with me, I should be able to alter some of Seokie’s stuff. I don’t think his thighs will fit into anything else.”

Mingyu gargled with embarrassment, and covered his face with one palm to the sound of Jihoon’s loud laughter.

* * *

_ Morning, Champions’ Tent, Trelleborgen Beach: _

Seungkwan had never seen so much leather gathered together in one place. Being inside the Champions’ tent was like being in a fantastical tale: the two Beauxbatons girls looked so beautiful it hurt a little to look at them, and the guys were mostly leather and creak and muscle -- two things he wasn’t sure he should be appreciating. In contrast to that, he felt almost plain in his duelling robes -- not that they were, they were just not in primary colours, or required a ton of talcum powder to get on.

He nervously smoothed the front of his intricately folded and tucked tunic, rolling his shoulders against the give in the material. His robes smelled faintly of home here in a foreign land -- his mother had taken them after they had been made and made them smell like Jeju somehow, all hallabong and sunshine and happiness. It gave him just a little trace of confidence -- that and the fact that Jeonghan-hyung had complained about him losing weight earlier. His sash, once simply twisted, required an intricate tuck now.

He looked sideways at his group. Soonyoung-hyung had gotten his hair brightened and he looked  _ wonderful _ : his shoulders were broad underneath the tunic, and he was actually smiling for the first time in forever, though that might be the fact that Jihoon-hyung was irritatedly plucking at his tunic and complaining of something. Jeonghan-hyung was in deep cahoots with his friend from Beauxbatons; next to the leather-and-lace fantastical outfit Hong Jisoo wore, Jeonghan-hyung’s robes made him look like an ancient prince, complete with hair clubbed back and heavily embroidered silk making him look taller than normal.

Seokmin had been here moments earlier, wishing all of them well, but he had taken some of the sunshine from the tent when he had left -- it was just two schools mixing. The Durmstrang guys were in a far corner, looking fearsomely good. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, likely tactics, and it seemed the ice was doubly thick today. Seungkwan nibbled on his lip and tried to come to a decision.

They didn’t know much of the task, just that the fifth years would be the only ones competing today. The others were here to give them support, but no more than that. 

Giving things up for a lost cause, he sighed and just walked over to them, bereft of wise words. They fell quiet when he neared them, expressions shut off to the last. Gathering himself, he pressed his hands formally to his waist and bowed to them. “I wanted to say ‘fighting’,” he said after straightening. “Thank you for teaching me to stand straight the last few days. I’ll fight my best.” His eyes found Hansol. “I look forward to the task. Um, good luck.”

Silence reigned before Choi Seungcheol unbent a little to smile at him. “Good, you remember what I said. Fighting, Boo Seungkwan.”

“Please just call me Seungkwan.”

Of all the people it was Wonwoo that smiled at him. “Fighting, Seungkwan-ah.”

Seungkwan smiled back happily and would have left had Choi Seungcheol not looked at Chwe Hansol and given him a chin-nod. The light-haired Durmstrang champion looked a little pained before he pulled Seungkwan sideways, nudging him a little into a quiet corner of the tent. 

“Hello?” Seungkwan said with a rill of worry. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t want you to go easy on me,” Chwe Hansol said oddly, light brown eyes intent. “I know that Miss Batteaux won’t, but I would ask that you not be polite -- just fight as you have these last days in duelling. Because I won’t go easy against you either. There’s a lot of honour on the line here.”

For a moment Seungkwan felt outraged, staring at Chwe Vernon before a glimmer of understanding dawned. “Chwe Vernon, I’ll fight until my wand is smoking in my hand,” he said softly but seriously. “I’m going up against you as an opponent, whether it’s here or on a duelling platform. Not just for my honour, but that of my parents and my hyungdeul in the upper years.” He lifted his wand hand, one pinky outstretched. “How do you feel about a bet?”

Chwe Vernon looked at his outstretched hand, then Seungkwan. Very slowly he reached up as well, hooking pinkies together with a slight frown. “What bet?” he asked suspiciously. 

“If I win, you have to smile. If you win… well, whatever like favour you want. Something small.”

Vernon stared at him. Finally, nodding, he tightened his pinkie around Seungkwan’s. “Deal,” he said in a soft, deep voice. When he pulled back, his fingertips flitted across Seungkwan’s wrist, then up his arm to grasp there. “Fight hard.”

“Fight hard!” Seungkwan echoed; he jerked when Noémie popped up almost from nowhere, putting her clasped hands on their twined arms.

“Fighting!” she called happily in her posh accent. “Come on. It’s time for us to go out there.”

Seungkwan nodded and took a deep breath, tucking the look in Vernon’s eyes away for later consideration.  _ Eomma, Appa. Let me make you proud,  _ he prayed as he walked to the entrance, hearing the roaring crowd for the first time.  _ I’ll do my best. _

* * *

_ Beach task area, Gulf of Bothnia, 24 October 2020: _

Chan settled in on the spectator stands, sheltering behind Jun and Mingyu’s tall forms. He had his hands clasped around a warm bottle and Headmistress Mett had loaded him down with Warming and Comfort charms; he felt as if he could withstand an Arctic gale, all snug and happy. “ _Hyungdeul_ … have they announced the details yet?”

Mingyu pulled him closer and curled an arm around him, stealing a sip of the hot choco in the bottle. “Not yet, but any time now. Look, the others are emerging.”

Chan looked; Ghyslaine de la Vallière looked like an ice-wraith leading warriors when she sallied out of the tent on Seokmin-hyung’s arm. He blushed at her beauty, for the moment a little wistful, but that settled when Soonyoung-hyung and Jihoon-hyung loped out as well, avowedly not looking at each other, and finally the three eldest champions, with Jeonghan-hyung and Choi Seungcheol separated by Hong Jisoo’s easy walk. He watched as all of them came closer, with Jeon Wonwoo trailing at the very back, and frowned when they made for their section of the stands. “They’re not sitting with the other Durmstrang students?”

“No,” Jun-hyung said. “All the Champions and visitors sit together, something about fair play and so on… move up, Channie.”

Chan mumbled and watched as Choi Seungcheol pulled his thick leather jacket off, resting it on the stands for Miss de la Vallière to sit on. She looked at him with a smile, clearly thanking him, but left him with red ears and two men looking at him. Any more undercurrents were cut off when Soonyoung-hyung and Jihoon-hyung came with, both resplendent in thick robes; Jihoon-hyung sat neatly back against his legs and he obediently widened them a little, providing him with a good rest to sit back against.

“Channie,” Soonyoung-hyung said fondly, reaching to squeeze his ankle. “You’re warm enough?”

Chan fought not to roll his eyes. “Yes, hyung, thank you.”

“Good good, what’s in the flask?”

Chan passed the hot choco down and stared anxiously at the tent flap. He was one of the first to roar approval as the Champions for the day came out, boys on either side of Miss Batteaux.”

Headmistress Elektra shot a flash-bang charm off, calling for silence, and tapped her throat with her wand, casting a Sonorous charm. “Welcome to this, the first task of the Tripartite Tournament!” she called. “Honoured guests, pupils and visitors alike, you are welcome as these three strive against each other. As Transfiguration had been chosen for the first task, allow me a moment to explain the rules.”

Chan snapped his mouth shut. They had all seen the task as described by Jeonghan-hyung in his Ledger of Death. Each competitor would be presented with a figure with multiple parts, with each part having been transfigured between five to ten times. The task win would go to the school that first figured out what the construct was originally, and transfigured it back. Jeonghan-hyung had noted that last time, it had felt like a rolodex of parts, and it was why Seungkwan-hyung had been chosen for this task: he had the best memory between himself and Youngho-ssi, or the best visual memory at least.

“Although the task had been such a success last year, we decided to switch it up!” Jarl Elektra said. “So that our visitors get a better look at the broad talents of each school, this is how it will go!”

“Wait,” Jun whispered next to him, already leaning down to put a hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder, who was sitting in front of him. “What’s she saying? It’s not the same?”

_ No, _ Chan thought, suddenly terrified.  _ No, we trained Seungkwan-hyung for the other, what now? _

“Each champion will be provided with a long list of objects -- the numbers are uneven but each school’s head pulled at random. The students will have to transfigure objects out of the sand of the beach, with points given for realism and accuracy and speed. The faster and further they go, the more of the options will be on the list for the next year group’s contest. The lists call for inanimate-to-inanimate transfigurations, inanimate-to-animate, and animate-to-animate, the latter of which will have to be performed on the previous object they transfigured, so they have to last.”

Chan felt horrified: they had trained Seungkwan for speed, and now it was an endurance test on top of that. He could faintly hear Jihoon-hyung mutter under his breath, and when he looked Jeonghan-hyung was very pale, but soon all his attention was on distant Seungkwan, the way his expression looked fixed and pale beneath dancing locks of his hair. 

“Transfigurations will be graded on completion - any mistake and you stop! In order to ensure fairness, we have invited independent examiners from the IWC’s NEWTs education committee. Please welcome the judge for Durmstrang - Demetri Markides! For Beauxbatons, Bhuchung Geymutsang! For Udo Hogwarts, Edeline Guerrier! In addition, as well as the randomly drawn list of transfigurations, each of the three Heads here will adjudicate another school. For Durmstrang, Headmaster Zacharie Devereaux! For Beauxbatons, Headmistress Merit Khouri! I myself will take Udo Hogwarts. Our function is simply a check on the judges, no points will be forthcoming from us.”

The students muttered at that; Chan heard Jeonghan-hyung shushing them with a single tight comment. He didn’t blame him: from what he had seen Jarl Elektra Thorisdottir was fair if remote. 

_ Fighting, Seungkwan-hyung,  _ he thought.  _ Fighting. _

The independent judges each moved to a separate area, joined but the three Heads. Seconds later the Champions were beckoned over and presented with a list. From the way the scrolls unrolled, they hadn’t been joking when they said there were many options. He looked at the magical screens projecting details to the crowd, but couldn’t see many of the options on the scroll that Seungkwan-hyung held, just a scribble that went on and on.

“The Champions will start in three! Two! One!”

Magic surged in the area as the three Champions whipped out their wands and started transfiguring. Next to him Jun-hyung whimpered, squeezing at his eyes as if they pained him, and Soonyoung-hyung was staring fixedly at the screens -- not that he blamed him, he would go based on what happened today.

Five transfigurations. Ten. Twenty. The area around the battling champions was golden with magical fallout. Chan watched Seungkwan-hyung’s hands steady and his wand starting to move faster and faster; only his experience with transfiguration allowed him to keep up.

“It’s all riding on him,” Mingyu-hyung said at his side, hand tight on Chan’s shoulder. “He’s doing well, but damn it, I wish it had been the original task… how many options are even on that list?”

Bear, cat, cupboard, working fountain, a rock formation in the shape of the Beatles… the options seemed to roll on and on. Chan watched sweat break out on Seungkwan’s forehead as he worked on and on with the list. There came a moment that all the champions slowed down, running through the first surge of adrenaline, and the wands started moving slower. On the right side, Miss Batteaux was moving the slowest of all of them: her creations were as good as the others, but...

“Beauxbatons out!” the judge introduced as Bhuchung Geymutsang shouted, abruptly holding up an orange flag. “Reason for disqualification, incomplete transfiguration!”

The Beauxbatons students muttered, but did not start shouting as the female Champion folded in on herself and hunkered down, panting: in front of her was a teapot, so exquisitely made that it took Chan a moment to see that the pattern on the very bottom rim didn’t match the rest of it. From the way her hands shook but she lifted her head still composed, Miss Batteaux knew she had messed up as well, and smiled as Headmistress Mett went to help her up.

The tension of the crowd racked up higher and higher as the three screens dissolved, turning into two massive ones to show the remaining Champions. Radningar Chwe looked effortless still, gaze half-unfocused as he concentrated on the options on his list, trusting in his gut as he jumped from one to the other. Chan had to hand it to him. The Durmstrang boy had style and the kind of half-concentration that really worked well. His wand hand was almost lazy, but the transfigurations it spat out were top-notch down to the last detail.

Fifty transfigurations in everyone started whispering. When it came to the eighties he could see Seungkwan-hyung shivering as he stared at the sand in front of him with burning eyes, sweating so much it stained the neck of his robes and ran down from his hairline. 

He looked aside briefly as Wonwoo-hyung passed something up to Jun, too afraid to look away for long, and blinked at what looked like a wet cloth that Jun-hyung immediately pressed to his face.

_ Oh,  _ Chan realised.  _ Whatever he’s seeing must be so different it’s really hurting him. _

“How long can he go on like this?” Soonyoung-hyung asked in front of him, directing the question to Jihoon.

“I don’t know.” The answer was almost snappy, but worried as well. “Come on, Seungkwanie. Come on!”

If it hadn’t been for magic Chan wouldn’t have been able to hear over the roar of the crowd. The whole of Durmstrang was chanting Chwe Vernon’s name, but the Hogwarts contingent had it well in hand, sharper chants of ‘Kwannie! Kwannie!’ making itself heard above the deep, thrumming ‘Chwe! Chwe! Chwe!’

Eighty shapes, then ninety - Seungkwan’s shoulders hunched as he bent into it - and for a moment Chan felt he had a real chance of winning, before he saw a green flag shoot up from Chwe Vernon’s side. “Time!” Demetri Markides roared. “Time! Durmstrang list complete! Stop the clock!”

_ Oh no. Oh  _ no. 

Chan felt devastated as Seungkwan jerked back, stopping. In front of him was a beautiful transfiguration, curling Escher steps with little swimming fish patterns, and he was crying hard, shivering and shaking at the sudden stop. Jarl Thorisdottir had him by the arm, talking quickly and quietly, as the judges conferred between them -- Chwe Vernon looked more dumbstruck than ever, and scooted over to talk to Seungkwan as well, with Noémie getting there first in a cloud of light blue.

The crowds fell deathly quiet as the judges first conferred, and then repeated their decisions to the Heads. The tension was thick enough to cut as Jarl Thorisdottir lifted her wand to her throat again.

“In third place, managing forty-three transfigurations before the first failure, Miss Noémie Batteaux of Beauxbatons. Her list contained ninety items, the shortest of the lists provided today. Of particular note was the elegance and decorative nature of the items. Congratulations, Miss Batteaux!”

Chan cheered for her, feeling happy when the entire crowd did too. She was smiling and curtseying to the Jarl, and had recovered enough to receive the small bunch of flowers the Jarl held out to her.

“In second place, managing ninety-nine transfigurations before time was called, Mister Seungkwan Boo from Udo Hogwarts! His list contained a hundred and ten items, the longest of the lists provided today. Judge Edeline Guerrier noted, and I concur, that the last set of imaginary sequence transfigurations were well above standards, especially the Penrose Stairs!”

The beach rocked with cheering: not as many of Durmstrang cheered, but the Udo and Beauxbatons crowds made up for it as Seungkwan was presented by a bunch of flowers as well, which he accepted with shivering hands, directing a tear-wet but genuine smile up at the Jarl.

“In first place, managing a hundred items and finishing his list. Radningar Vernon Chwe from Durmstrang! His list was the second-longest today, containing a hundred items. Judge Demetri Markides notes the rigour of his transformations, as well as a particularly fast set of furniture animations in the middle!”

Chan cheered for him as well, almost happy that it had turned out like this, and grinned when both the losers made to shake Radningar Chwe’s as well. In front of him, Soonyoung-hyung still stared at the screen with burning intensity, but stopped when Jeonghan looked over his shoulder and made a remark to him, along with a small smile.

“The lists that will be carried to the next year’s challengers tomorrow are: forty-three for Beauxbatons, ninety-nine for Udo Hogwards, one hundred for Durmstrang. Durmstrang takes first win here; a points counter will be on display to all in the  _ Langhus _ . Our Nissars have prepared a fortifying meal as well, so I welcome everyone back to the  _ Trelleborgen  _ and the Great Hearth for a celebration!”

Chan couldn’t care less about food. All he cared about was elbowing his way through the crowd to get to the champions below, and to go and tell Seungkwan-hyung how intensely proud he was of him.

  
  


Seungcheol let out a long, slow sigh as the first task completed. Hansol had won as he had promised, but it hadn’t been easy: Boo Seungkwan had fought until the last, keeping his promise to them as well. Oddly, he felt proud of him as well, and turned to the two at his side. 

“Congratulations, Stallari Choi,” Jeonghan said first with no ire in his voice. “Radningar Chwe is a very worthy opponent.” He unbent enough to give a small smile. “And you too, Joshuji, I don’t know Miss Batteaux that well, but she acquitted herself wonderfully today.” His eyes, dark honey, found Seungcheol as well. “Congratulations to Durmstrang for the first win though.”

Seungcheol swallowed, feeling the impact of old memories and new alike slide over his shoulders. “I was very impressed by both their efforts,” he said, bending his head to Jeonghan and Jisoo. “Their courage in the face of stiff opposition does them both proud.”

“Cheollie,” Jisoo teased, reaching to fluff his fringe out of a neat fall into something messy. “Come on. You can be proud of your boy as well. You taught him very well.” His fingers slid down, teasing along one earlobe before he reached to hold out his hand for a handshake. “Congratulations.”

“Yes,” Jeonghan said, tone of voice soft. “You were always the best at Transfiguration, Stallari.”

Seungcheol cleared his throat, accepting first Jisoo’s handshake, then Jeonghan’s. “Thank you.” He took a deep breath. “Please… call me Seungcheol. It would be my honour if you would allow me to escort you both to the Champion’s tent to check up on your contestants.”

Jisoo’s approving smile dazzled him. In contrast Jeonghan’s was small but intensely warm, and he looked nervous with relief.

“Thank you, Seungcheol-ssi,” Jeonghan murmured. “And yes, please, I want to go and congratulate Seungkwanie.”

Jisoo’s laughter rang between them. “No,” he said, and moved to the middle, holding out both arms. “I insist. Beauxbatons lost, so I get a forfeit. That’s you two on  _ my _ arms today… ah, thank you, Ghys, just throw it over his shoulders.”

Confused and a little warm, Seungcheol moved to take Jisoo’s arm, feeling the corded muscle in it, and wondered if this was finally a sign of approval.

* * *

Vernon sat in the corner of the Champions’ tent, hands shaking uncontrollably as he tried to grow calm after the task. It felt as if he had left half his mind back there on the sand of the beach; there was an annoying buzz in the back of his mind that suggested that he should still be transfiguring, that it wasn’t over, that he was on the verge of losing… He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort not to cry from the sheer relief that came from winning the very first task. It was a huge moment for Durmstrang and himself -- he had said he would and he had, but it had been such a close thing that it gave him a whole boatload of worries for the other tasks. 

His nose wrinkled at the smell of the flowers in the tent and he pulled in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose himself. He had just opened them when the girl from Beauxbatons came dancing over to him, back in her warm blue sweatsuit but still with the glitter and makeup she had applied for the task. 

“Radningar Chwe,” she said happily. “That was fantastic! Congratulations again on winning the first task for our year.” She held out her flowers to him. “Flowers for the victor… I hear that you have a younger sister? Perhaps she’ll like to have them if you don’t.”

Vernon looked numbly at the flowers and forced his hand to remain steady as he took them. “Thank you,” he mumbled, unsure how she had known about his sister. “I’ll give them to her, yes.”

_ Girls. Their methods are mysterious. _

Noémie smiled brilliantly at him but left him alone to flitter over to Headmaster Deveareaux, and the space she had filled became occupied with someone new.

_ Boo Seungkwan _ .

He had seen the other boy’s mettle today: even with a longer list and the nature of the task changed, he had pushed on to the very end, he had almost battled Vernon down to the ground, and the only emotion he felt now was respect - Boo Seungkwan had come far in the past week.

“Flowers for the victor,” Boo Seungkwan said softly, holding his bunch of flowers out to Vernon as well. “Congratulations, Radningar Chwe. You deserved to win there. I didn’t have a chance to look, but they tell me your stuff was really good.”

“Are these for my sister as well?” Vernon asked, fingers wrapping aimlessly around the bouquet’s tied stems.

Seungkwan blinked at him. “What, no? For you. Do you have a sister? I didn’t think…”

Vernon swallowed and nodded, looking up at Boo Seungkwan. He looked resplendent still, wrapped in the silken embroideries and many layers that spoke of his heritage, but his hair flopped and sat sweat-glued to his forehead in little locks still. Entirely… entirely…

He inhaled. “I had an idea for my favour,” he mumbled, standing as he put the bouquet down on the bunk he had sat on. “You made me proud to face off against you today, but… but you still owe me a favour right?” 

Seungkwan inhaled, moving a step back so they weren’t practically on top of each other. “I do,” he said. “What do you want?”

“A song,” Vernon blurted out. “Sofia told me you could sing. She’s my sister. The one Miss Batteaux gave me flowers for. Um. Yes. She said she heard you singing with Lee Seokmin. She doesn’t really know people that sing in Korean beyond what she can search on the Internet and that’s scarce here. I was wondering if you could sing for her. For my favour. A song.”

Blinking, Seungkwan tilted his head. “You want me to sing a song for your sister? I mean… sure, but I’m not a trained singer. You really want Seokie for that. I guess I can do a song though, who’s her favourite?”

_ This is what you get for lying,  _ Vernon’s responsible side reminded him.  _ What does Sof even like? _

“IU?” he finally faltered. It  _ sounded _ right, and the smile that bloomed on Seungkwan’s face gave him courage. “Yes, IU.”

“I love IU!” Seungkwan said happily, hands waving in the air. “I know some of her songs, I can sing something, sure! Just let me know, alright? I’d be honoured to meet her and sing to her. I… oh!” he turned his head as someone called his name. “I have to go, but sure! Let me know.”

Vernon lunged forward, wrapping his hand around Seungkwan’s wrist for a moment. “It was an honour fighting against you,” he got out. “And you kept your word. That meant everything. Thank you, Boo Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan shot him one last smile and nod before he scooted away, hurrying over to go disappear into a guy’s arms who was yelling dramatically - Kwon Soonyoung? - which gave Vernon time to flop back on the bunk and stare at the ground in amazement. 

_ What the fuck, Chwe? What the fuck are you doing? _

He was so lost in the thought it was only Seungcheol’s bear-embrace that woke him up; that and Professor Oppenheim coming to shake his hand. 


	12. CHAP: First Task, Part 2

Sometimes Soonyoung couldn’t remember that there had been anything before the moment he had discovered he had magic. He could still remember the teacher coming to his place and how excited he had been afterwards. How excited he had been when he finally got the right wand for him. How he had goggled when he saw a tiny Lee Jihoon for the first time. How it had felt in the years since, both growing and encouraging others to grow.

How that all had gone to shit when he had arrived at this  _ stupid _ school. 

No one had suggested a meeting that night, everyone wanted him in bed early and he had obediently gone, but he found it difficult to sleep these days. He was  _ so angry _ and he couldn't even see his parents to talk it out. The days of scorn from that bitch, the suggestions he was killing the boy he loved siphoning his magic off, the way Seungkwanie had grown pale and wan before they had started to do something about it. The way Mingyu still drooped in class some days.

It boiled in the space behind his heart as he slowly dressed in the battle-robes after a shower. The layers went on easily, tailored for him, and he took care to fit and sash each as it should be done, using it as meditation. Anything, really, to calm down.

Seungkwanie had taken it well that he didn’t win yesterday, and Soonyoung didn’t blame him. An unfamiliar task like that had cost real grit to see through, and Soonyoung was proud of him. So very, very proud.

The last jacket went on before he had finished calming himself, but that was nothing new these days either. Making sure his wand holster was on right and tight only delayed him a few moments more, and finally he had to wander out to breakfast with all the others. They were talking about the possibilities of what the task could be, of their chances; he was responding, he knew that, but he didn’t even think about the responses, too into the kernel of anger in him to be mindful.

There was the most massive headache curling up his spine and gnawing at the bottom of his skull. He couldn’t take anything, he had to be alert enough, but the path down to the beach wasn’t a pleasure trip and if people didn’t stop talking to him soon he would be a messy puddle all over the floor. So would they.

Entering the tent he saw red and blue: he wished he could have Jun there to talk to, but Jun was away with the others and he just had a quick hug from Seungkwanie and a strange look from Jihoon. It was Jeonghan that came over to him, pulling away from the others, and snapped fingers in front of his eyes.

“You’re crying,” Jeonghan said with worry and wonder. “Soonyoung-ah. You know it won’t be a problem if we lose this, right? I know Transfigurations isn’t your strongest point, but I’d rather that Jihoon-ah rest a bit more.” He paused to fluff long, thin fingers through Soonyoung’s fringe, seating it neatly to one end. “Even if we want to withdraw from this challenge, it won’t be a problem.”

“Yes,” Soonyoung said, swallowing against the curdle of emotion inside him. Then, seconds later, “No. I don’t want to withdraw from this. Just watch the others for me.”

Jeonghan frowned at him. “Why? What’s going on?”

“I just need you to watch them.” Somehow it was very important to the tangle of emotions inside Soonyoung. “I’ll be fine, hyung. You should leave. We’re going to start soon.”

Jeonghan cast him one last look before he left; Soonyoung spared very little time on good luck for the other champions. In actual fact, he was almost not aware of escorting Miss de la Vallière out with Jeon Wonwoo. All that he could concentrate on were the large squares of transfigurations still protected in the sand after last night. The judges from yesterday stood there as well, but the Champions were halted before they got to close, and Headmaster Devereaux gestured to the stands.

Soonyoung waved mechanically to the section screaming his name; the noise faded as Jarl Thorisdottir stepped up on her podium.

“Welcome to the second day of the first task!” Jarl Thorisdottir called after a Sonorus charm. “After yesterday’s excellent performance by all three schools I’m sure we’re all excited about what the second day will contain. For the second heat of this task, each competitor will be assigned… to a competitor school!” The noise surged at that, until she had to send off a flash-bang charm to quiet the noise. “Silence!”

Soonyoung felt queasy; his eyes weren’t focused on the transfigurations or the crowd or anything, just the white grains of sand beneath him. It felt funny, almost as if he could feel adrenaline coursing through his body.

“Each Champion will be assigned a competitor school at random, and will be given five minutes to eliminate as many of the school’s Transfigurations as possible. Lest any of you think it an easy task, some of these have been spelled Permanent by our judges, and others will be highly resistant based on how much magic the prior Champions pushed into the transfigurations yesterday.”

_ No problem,  _ Soonyoung thought.  _ No problem. Just let me at them. _

“At the same time, the Champions may try to preserve as many of their school’s transfiguration as possible. This task will require careful balance. Pick carefully!”

One of the judges, the lady, stepped up and held out her wand: when they proffered their wands to her a single tap on the end shot up a fountain of sparks. Soonyoung felt his cheeks stretch wide in a grin when his wand sparked red.  _ Durmstrang. Good. Good. Come on, lady.  _ He didn’t look to see what the others got, he’d look after he  _ destroyed _ Durmstrang. 

They allowed them to step forward. Soonyoung made his way to the large square with all of Durmstrang’s transfigurations and lifted his head to stare at the judge on the other side. He wasn’t sure what showed in his eyes but the man blinked and narrowed his eyes as well.

_ Seungkwanie. Jihoonie. Mingyu-ya. It’s okay. Watch me. I’ll show them what a mudblood can do. Just wait for hyung. Hyung will take care of everything. _

A noise like a gunshot alerted him to the start of the task; he pulled his wand so fast it felt as it teleported, and sank into his consciousness that he had always shared with his wand. The old bull inside it was irritated, had been irritated these last few weeks. The few duels here and there hadn’t satisfied it, and it wanted to act out. Soonyoung’s smile grew into a snarl as he reached deep and hauled up so magic from his core his hair snapped up into waves and the spell-silk over his shoulders whispered as the animals on it began to dance.

Deep inside Udo’s Tiger woke up and came roaring to the surface.

* * *

_ Spectator Stands: _  
  


Hong Jisoo, ensconced between his two best … friends, didn’t say anything as the Jarl announced the task. He had had a long talk last night with Ghyslaine about the chances of them winning today given the circumstances. She had taken no offense and had willingly sat to scheme with him, planning where they might better use their strengths. Now, with Seungcheol’s strong shoulder pressing against his on his right and Jeonghan’s hand on his left knee, he didn’t know what to think.

Vanishing spells were notoriously difficult, escalating with the internal structure of the thing to be vanished, and there was a certain amount of moral strength required. Few wizards could Vanish a cute puppy that played with them, even if it had been sand just a day earlier. Not only that but…

Hang on.

He blinked his eyes and stared down at the beach, uncertain he was seeing what he was seeing. Ghyslaine, in front of the Udo square, was fiddling with her bracelets, smiling at the lady judge there as she switched them over from left arm to right. Her wand arm. Her wand hand.

She  _ never _ liked wearing anything close to her wand hand, claiming it felt odd, and for that reason they had made it one of their caution signals. She was scared, but still holding up a front, stil chatting. Her expression when all the Champions turned and waved to the crowd was impeccable, but she sought his gaze out, flicked her eyes ever so slightly to the left before she had to turn around. 

Something to her left? Jisoo looked, finding only the Udo Champion there to her left, standing quietly in front of the large square that Chwe Hansol had filled so well yesterday. 

The more he looked at Soonyoung, the more it seemed that there was something wrong. He couldn’t quite see, but his breathing looked shallow and he seemed to be blinking very slowly and for a wizard that was tanned from spending so much time outdoors voluntarily, he looked very pale.

“Hannie,” he said softly, urgently. “Hannie, something’s wrong with your boy.”

Jeonghan blinked and leant into him, fingers tightening a little on Jisoo’s knee. “What?” he asked. “Sorry, it’s so loud here.”

“Something’s wrong with Soonyoung, you have to stop this!”

Jeonghan’s head snapped around to stare at the Udo champion; Jisoo felt his body coiling to jump up, but the starting shot came from the Jarl and all hell broke loose.

Even at a distance he could tell how much magic Kwon Soonyoung had just dragged up from his core by the way sand spat away from him in a massive circle. It was much more impressive on the screens that showed each champion. The blonde wand in his hand - so ironically lovely - glowed and bucked as all of it came out on a single intricate motion of it. He couldn’t hear what he yelled out, but Seungcheol stiffened as well before leaning forward to squint at that screen.

“I’ve got to stop him,” Jeonghan said, shoving to get free; to Jisoo’s surprise it was Seungcheol that lashed a hand around his wrist and yanked him back down.

“No,” Seungcheol said in his deep voice, soft enough only the two of them heard against the shouting crowd. “No. If you go down there right now he’ll go through you. I didn’t know you had a berserker in your school?”

Jeonghan gave him a frightened, piercing look. “I don’t have a berserker in my school! I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Jisoo bulled his body in between them and yanked them down, unwilling to allow one of their fights  _ now _ . “That spell he cast just now, Cheollie, did you see what it was?”

“No,” Seungcheol answered. “It must have been a Transfiguration spell or the judges would have stopped him, but it’s… shit. Look at him go, it’s like he’s not even trying. Even Judge Markides is standing well away from him.”

Jisoo watched, eyes large, as the spell that Kwon Soonyoung had cast on the Udo square became visible: for every object that Ghyslaine tried to vanish, a dozen more took its place, some running around in blinding patterns and some just heaping up. Very soon there were at least fifteen wardrobes running around, all singing happily, and with each time she tried to Vanish something more and more popped up. Meanwhile, Kwon Soonyoung was ripping so quickly through the options Durmstrang had it was  _ remarkable _ : he was like a bull that had gotten free, and was rampantly charging down his objective.

The crowd thrummed with their chanting, so caught in the grip of the showmanship that the ‘Kwon! Kwon! Kwon!’ thrummed like a heartbeat, accompanied by the stomping of boots on the stands.

Fifty objects, twenty, fifteen… the Udo Champion went through them on fast-forward, seemingly uncaring about the complexity of the object. It was only when he got to the back row that he had problems. There were so many objects left on the Udo lot they were beginning to overflow and trip up the Durmstrang champion as well, especially as what looked like a whole onslaught of kittens rampaged over there in an attempt to get away from a handful of terrifying Gorgons.

Even through the screaming of the crowd Jisoo could hear laughter, and when he looked up the Udo students were laughing fit to kill, all but Lee Jihoon and Seungkwan, who were tightly holding hands and gnawing on their lips.

“Go hyung!” Kim Mingyu shouted, swinging his fist in the air. “Go on, show them what the Houseketeers are like!”

It was an absolute free-for-all, madness of the highest imagining, and it only ended a minute later when Jeon Wonwoo and Kwon Soonyoung, battling for the survival (and destruction) of  _ some _ of the Durmstrang objects, eventually dead-locked each other. Seconds later, watching Jeon Wonwoo go sailing from spell backlash, his eyes stretched wide open as Kwon Soonyoung  _ vanished half the beach _ from a misaimed charm; the entire area groaned and the sea rushed in savagely just as the five minute mark bell rang.

The judges shot off flash-bang charms and waved their hands, hastily pulling up bulwarks of earth against the encroaching sea as they worked to keep the spectator stands safe.

“Kwon Soonyoung! That’s my hyung!” a voice rang above the screaming, crystal-clear with jubilation. “Do you see that you stupid racist fucks? That’s what a muggleborn can do! Come on! We’ll wipe the floor with you, you Durmstrang assholes!”

_ Lee Chan _ . 

“Lee Jung Chan!” Jeonghan thundered as he jumped up and around, but his voice got lost as the crowd went wild, some screaming in anger and some in released frustration. The Houseketeers were dancing, doing some kind of impromptu can-can and the others…

Down on the beach, barely in front of the other two Champions’ hands, Kwon Soonyoung gasped for breath and slowly collapsed, magic guttering out as he fell unconscious.

It took fifteen minutes for the teachers and the judges to return the area to normal and pacify the crowds. Jarl Thorisdottir looked as if she wanted to curse all of the students into a paste as she stood on her podium; only Headmaster Devereaux stood with her, Headmistress Khouri long since disappearing into the Champions’ tent with the others. “Silence!” the Jarl roared. “I will have silence!”

The students, perhaps rightly fearing her wrath, fell silent.

“”In third place,” she said quellingly, “Ghyslaine de la Vallière from Beauxbatons. In second place, Jeon Wonwoo from Durmstrang. In first place, Kwon Soonyoung from Udo Hogwarts. The points boards have been adjusted. I want all the Radningars and Stallari in front of me! Since you’re all gathered, and apparently hooligans, we’re going to have extra training right now! Tyr, Freyr, Mimir, front and centre now! Stallari Blix, start the calisthenics! Everyone spread out! Stallari Choi, get down here! Take over!”

Groaning, Jisoo stood, supporting a white-faced Jeonghan as Seungcheol left his side with a regretful backwards glance. 

“He’ll be fine,” he whispered to his heart-friend, one hand resting on Jeonghan’s nape. “He’ll be fine. Come on. Let’s get our kids tired first. It’ll be our turn tomorrow.”

* * *

_ Champions’ Tent, Bothnian Beach: _

Jeon Wonwoo had never moved so quickly in his life, and it hadn’t been quickly enough. The sight of Kwon Soonyoung collapsing in front of him had his heart in his throat not only because he was Jun’s very dear friend, but because he had a good idea of what caused his collapse and he felt  _ guilty _ about it. 

He reached for him only to be pulled away by Ghyslaine de la Vallière. “No!” she yelled. “Levitate him instead, we’ve got to get him into the tent as quickly as possible!”

Wonwoo wasn’t sure why he complied, but comply he did, and levitated Kwon Soonyoung’s body into the tent with all the speed he could muster. They had barely run inside when Ghyslaine indicated a flat surface, and he had to jerk back not to get caught in the spell she spat out in Kwon Soonyoung’s direction. “What are you doing?” he demanded of her when she paused, raked the bracelets off her wand arm and cast the spell again.

“Go find the medic staff,” she ordered as she concentrated on the glow that began to envelop Soonyoung’s body, eyes narrowing at the strange readings that glowed above it.

Wonwoo pinched his lips shut as he looked at the spell - some kind of Healer’s diagnostic, it seemed - and spun on his heel to do as ordered, but only got a few steps before their medical staff came running in along with Headmistress Khouri. “He’s breathing,” he assured them shortly, standing out of the way. “We just got him flat.”

“Good girl,” their Healer said as she joined Miss de la Vallière, looking rapidly over the readouts produced. “Headmistress Khouri!”

Headmistress Khouri scooted closer, frowning at the readout, but clearly didn’t see whatever those with Healer training did. “Yes, I’m here.”

“I’ll need your permission to take a Core Chromagraph,” the healer said. “It looks like magical exhaustion brought on by whatever happened out there and I want to see if the fool damaged his core. Girl -- you, the Beauxbatons one. You have healer training?” At Ghyslaine’s nod she pointed. “Watch the energy transfer rates for a moment, call me at once if it dips below the secondary orange median. Madam Headmistress?”

Headmistress Khouri looked pale and conflicted for long moments but finally nodded, tightening her jaw. “After he stabilises, as long as everyone else leaves,” she said. “I have _in loco parentis_ , I can authorise it.”

The healer looked over her shoulder to Wonwoo. “Potions,” she said simply to him. “My green case, it’s next-door. Go get it and leave it at the tent’s entrance. Beauxbatons girl, drop the charm and get out as well please. Go off to the others and reassure them.”

Wonwoo, on the verge of insisting that he stay, grimaced and nodded, unwilling to go against the request. Instead, making for the other tent to get the potions, he left them as instructed and cast a look at the entrance, which shed a bit of multi-hued light. Shaking his head, he turned to Ghyslaine de la Vallière and, saying nothing, offered his arm to help her over the uneven sand back to the main area. 

“Somehow,” she said softly to him, “somehow I don’t feel bad to be beaten like this. It’s somewhat heroic, right?”

“Mn,” he muttered, trying not to think of all the heroic stories he knew that ended badly. “This way.”

* * *

_ Jarl’s office, late evening: _

The procession of the three Heads into the Jarl’s office felt like a solemn one; Jarl Elektra warded it just as well as the previous time before she sank down in her chair with a thump, forehead impacting on the sturdy wooden desk. “Sometimes,” she mumbled. “Sometimes I really wish I had told the Durmstrang Council to shove off. The IDC may seem like teenagers, but this is the real hell because I can’t hex them silly.”

Zacharie snorted and circumvented the desk, going to the alcohol cabinet to poke around in it. He eventually pulled out a bottle, sniffed at the cork and nodded, conjuring glasses to pour the honey-coloured liquid into. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  _ My _ students are little rays of sunshine.”

She didn’t respond, just lifted a hand to flip him off.

“To be fair,” Mett said as she sat down, “the situation today was not entirely my students’ fault. I had meant to speak with you before, but in some corridors here it seems that racism is still well and alive.” She pondered. “Is it racism? I’m not sure of the correct word.”

“Speciesism?” Zacharie guessed. “If you subscribe to their twisted dogma that those without magic are some kind of sub-standard species. Why, just yesterday one of my younger kids came to me in tears because they heard their _Seigneur_ described as a mongrel. Also a few other words they had to ask the meaning for -- I refused to translate, of course.”

Elektra sat up to scrub at her face, turning it red with the force she used. “There is some progress there. One of my own has come forward and volunteered his memories of a host of incidents. The retrieval process was put on hold but we should have enough to start off an enquiry soon. As soon as we have enough I shall inform Merkismathr Afanasievna that she is to step back from all her duties until the Council has deliberated the matter. Informally and highly off the record, I can confirm that they will likely vote to dismiss her.”

Mett leant forward to accept the glass floating to her, sipping slowly at the golden-hued liquor, coughing discreetly at the burn. “It can’t be soon enough or we’re going to have a messy situation on our hands.”

Elektra snorted. “Messier than suddenly having a new coastline?” She sobered, grimaced an apology and sighed. “How is the young man? He’s still in the medical wing, correct?”

“Soonyoung-ah is fine,” Mett muttered. “He’s exhausted of course, and I’ve postponed scolding him until his ears fall off, but he’s  _ just _ exhausted. A day or two without magic will do him good. I do apologise for the behaviour of the rest of my students though. Rest assured, they will be disciplined accordingly. However, I’m worried about the task tomorrow. I think we can all remember what happened two years ago.”

Zacharie made himself at home straddling his hair. “Ladies, I somehow don’t think you have anything to fear on that front. Beauxbatons has been hard at work to defuse the tensions. I think it is very probable that you’ll have a clean, if intense task tomorrow. If there’s one thing I have faith in, it’s that my _Seigneur_ can charm opposing armies to sit together and have a good sing-song.”

Elektra boggled at him; Mett was scarcely slower with her quizzical explanation. “What do you mean?” she demanded. 

“I am saying,” Zacharie murmured into his wine, “that those two boys might as well wear little lockets engraved with ‘Property of Hong Jisoo’. Have you two noticed  _ nothing _ over the past few weeks?”

“To be fair, I’ve been worried about my school blowing up,” Elektra said. “You mean…”

“I can’t divulge the particulars, but you don’t need them to see which way the wind is blowing,” Zacharie grinned. “Just eyeballs. It’s a pity that Constantin has blinded your eyes so much, and that I’ve never seen Mett care about romance.”

Mett clicked her tongue with irritation. “It’s not that,” she objected. “I understand hormones of course. I’ve noticed that your boys are friendly with my lot, even that rather quiet one. I just… don’t get the connection, for all Elektra and I faux-battle over poor Constantin.”

Zacharie shrugged his shoulders. “They’re not going to be a huge problem for much longer, that’s all. Expect a clean fight tomorrow.”

“Thank all the gods for small mercies,” Elektra muttered, and sunk into her chair to contemplate the firelight and her liquor. Seconds later when one of the wights melted from the wall and quietly set a scribbled piece of leather down in front of her, she frowned and straightened, dismissing it with a soft thanks. Her brows knit as she read the old characters sketched on it with what looked like ash. “Well,” she said after a while, lips pinching shut tightly. “Well, well, well. Mett.”

Merit frowned, straightening. “What?”

“The Ravens have agreed to see Lee Jihoon. Sigrid is to take him. Just him. Apparently what he told her interested them.”

Silence fell in the room before Merit reached to cover her face and breathe out slowly from the relief.

* * *

_Medical Rooms, Evening_ :

Jeonghan had never had a problem with medical rooms. All his visits to one had been benign save his grandmother dying in one from Dragon Pox, and in his distant youth he had had good memories of the candies the Healers kept around. He should have no reason to fear entering one, but here he was at the door to the medical room they had Soonyoung’s exhausted form in, and he had to fight to make it past the door into the peculiarly-scented space beyond. 

He was honestly not sure how Jihoon had forced him to walk into one, but that’s what the sixth-year had done earlier that day, and he hadn’t come out except for class. He could see him in there even now, sitting quietly at Soonyoung’s side holding his hand.

Jeonghan didn’t have it in him to try and categorise the look on Jihoon’s face; he had earlier heard the Ravenclaw scold Youngho for an insensitive remark and had been surprised at the iron-hard discipline in it. Even Seungkwan had shied away after that -- one did not cross Lee Jihoon in an angry mood.

Now though, he fought through the fog of uncertainty and entered the room himself, pulling the door shut behind him. He watched Jihoon’s shoulders stiffen before the other casually let Soonyoung’s hand go. Something about the set of his shoulders reminded Jeonghan of Seungcheol, and for a moment words died in his mouth.

_ Pull it together,  _ he castigated himself.  _ These are your kids. _

He stepped forward to rest a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder, letting the heat in it warm his friend’s stubborn posture. “Jihoonie,” he murmured. “Is the boy wonder still out?” He flicked a glance to Soonyoung’s other side and his wrapped right hand, then the wand sitting on the bedside table. “And have you had dinner yet? I don’t want to be responsible for the wights tracking you down and forcing you to eat. You  _ know _ Jun-ah has had a word with them about that as well, right?”

Jihoon made a noise in his throat. “Still out like a candle,” he muttered before shrugging uneasily. “I’ve eaten. They brought food in here. The  _ pabo _ wasn’t eating it after all, so I thought I might as well.”

Jeonghan stepped away to get a chair, sinking down into it. “I see. And you’re here…?”

Jihoon lifted his gaze to him, revealing red-rimmed eyes. “If it was me, he’d be in here as well, until I could at least open my eyes. He might be a… be an  _ idiot _ but he’d still be here. And he’s my friend, where else should I be?”

_ Amazing,  _ Jeonghan thought. _First an enemy, now a friend_ …

Out loud, grimacing, he reached to touch Soonyoung’s right hand. “I’ve heard that they’re thinking he’ll make a full recovery?”

“He pushed himself too far, yanking that much magic up,” Jihoon said drily. “He’s literally just asleep. Stupid.  _ Stupid _ . I was so worried, and it’s for nothing.”

Jeonghan considered him before he slid down in the chair for a comfortable slouch. "Ne, Jihoon-ah, what do you think of Hong Jisoo and Choi Seungcheol? What about tomorrow’s task?”

Jihoon stayed silent for some time before he shifted, drawing his legs up beneath him in the chair. “You’re never going to out-Transfigure Choi Seungcheol,” he finally said. “Not if all the gossip I’ve been hearing is correct. An animagus  _ and _ a Transfigurations prodigy? But you don’t fight face-on in any case, _hyung_ , you find other ways.”

“Hmmm, even last time I didn’t win the Transfiguration task -- it was Herbology, DADA and Potions.”

Taking a deep breath, Jihoon reached to arrange Soonyoung’s hand neatly on the blankets. “I think that he’s not the man that I thought he was,” he said steadily. “Not when I watch him with the others. He’s been rude and biased against our school, understandably so; as much as I want to kick his ass for being so rude to you, _hyung_ , I can also sort of understand it. If someone hurt me that much, I’d want to hurt them back.” He spared Jeonghan a sideways glance. “Especially if emotions were involved, like a deep friendship or… or something else.”

That woke Jeonghan up, enough that his brows lifted. “What have you seen?” he asked curiously.

“He stares at you when you’re talking with your other friend, Jisoo- _hyung_ ,” Jihoon said thoughtfully. “Like someone that’s seeing something he wants, but he doesn’t know how to get past the hurdle in his mind. Sometimes I think he’s genuinely kind, but he doesn’t let a lot of people in. Once you’re out, you’re out -- is he that kind of a man?”

Jihoon’s words pricked something in Jeonghan, pulling a frown out of him. “No… I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s just that I think of what he’s like with Joshuji and I wonder if I might have had that once upon a time.” He tilted his head. “Isn’t it the same as Soonyoung and yourself? Aren’t you afraid that one day you’re going to rebuff him for the last time and he’ll stay away?”

Jihoon frowned back. “What are you talking about? I’ve been trying for six years to get him to stay away.”

“This is me,” Jeonghan said softly. “And he’s unconscious. He’s not going to hear.”

Jihoon stared and stared at him before he reached out to take Soonyoung’s hand again, fingers delicate over the limp length of it. “I have other things to do right now,” he said. “I need to find a cure. I need to…” He broke off. “ _Hyung_. You know I’m proud to be your friend? Take it from me - time isn’t magically elastic. Fix things now, grab  _ now _ , don’t wait.” Another pause. “Have the others been disciplined?”

“Mhm,” Jeonghan said, recognising the out for what it was. “Not yet. I think Headmistress Mett is still planning how to rain hellfire down on us. Everyone’s in detention though, save you, myself and Seungkwanie, and naturally this lump. She’ll surely let us know after tomorrow.”

“Good,” Jihoon muttered. “You should go to bed, _hyung_. You’ll have a trying day tomorrow. I’ll stay and watch over him.”

Pursing his lips, Jeonghan stared back at Jihoon, but gave in after a few seconds. He stood, made his way over to the bed and leant down to drop a peck on Soonyoung’s forehead, fingers straightening his messed-up fringe before moving to do the same to Jihoon, who was way too tired to push him away. “See that you get some sleep,” he warned softly. “I’ll talk to the nurse and ask that she allow you to stay.”

Jihoon mumbled something too softly to be understood, but nodded. Jeonghan left to fulfil his promise, only too aware that the discussion had made the dread about tomorrow curl a little tighter in his belly.

* * *

_ Morning, 26 October 2020, breakfast: _

Jeonghan hadn’t thought of dressing up for the task when he woke up that morning, but had found himself surrounded by a determined cast of boys that had firm ideas. He had been too tired to tell them to shove off, and paid for it now with glances as he walked into the  _ Langhus _ . Seungkwan had given him a long,  _ long _ lecture on being the pride of Udo Hogwarts and had pressed at least five different types of supplements into his hands as the others worked. Even Channie had been there, carefully working though he was still in a sulk. 

The result was that he had to walk in past most of the other two schools looking like a prince from an Silla drama, with heavily embroidered robes and sashes to keep the outfit somewhat form-fitting, with long hair cascading over his shoulders and across his back from a ponytail in the back. He was still not sure how Chan had gotten it to grow so fast, but the rustle of it on his robes distracted him, and he faced forward very stiffly when he went to sit down for breakfast.

_ Thank goodness most of this comes off. If I had to fight in this like the princes of old did, I would have thrown a tantrum. Just a little more. _ _It's probably that conversation with Jihoonie last night, giving me those dreams about Joshuji and Cheolie._

He saw Joshuji eye him from another table, eyebrows hiked, and his heart went weak: he could read the worry deep in his friend’s eyes, and Seungcheol wasn’t there  _ again _ and god damn it, if the kids kept pressing any more food on him he’d throw up.

He took a deep breath. “Seungkwan-ah, ask and take some food for Jihoon-ah, he’ll be in the infirmary,” he ordered. “Jun-ah, you’ll be in charge of the others today. If the lot of you shame me again with a display like that, I’ll kill you all when I get off the competition field, is that understood?” He held each of their gazes, from a shamefaced Jun to a sulky Chan, glaring until they got the point. “I mean it. No more displays today.”

Mingyu looked at him with a woeful puppy face. “Eat some toast at least, _hyung_ ,” he said, pushing a basket of bread over. 

Jeonghan shot them all a look, took a piece of bread and nodded tightly. “No shenanigans,” he warned one last time before he stood and made for the exit, disappearing in a flurry of robes. He pondered whether it was the curse of the Transfiguration task that Seungkwan had spoken about, the queer headache that he felt. On an impulse, he made for the library instead, confident enough that one of the study rooms would be open and quiet -- maybe he’d get a nap before the task.

As cold as it was here before dark, he welcomed the radiant heat from the hearth in the little room he often claimed to study, and closed his eyes after setting a quick alarm. His plunge into unconsciousness came almost immediately.

Strangely enough, when something roused him it wasn’t the alarm but the feeling of fingertips carding smoothly through his long hair, easing the pressure of the tight band across his forehead that kept it all back. Even in his half-haze he knew the fingertips, remembered them from one impossible summer in a sunlit castle garden. “Joshuji,” he mumbled as he roused just enough to inhale deeply, body relaxing further at the complicated, soft cologne he smelled. 

“Hush,” Jisoo murmured to him, voice preceding a rustle of leather and cloth.

Jeonghan felt safe enough to fall deeper into slumber again, moving aside automatically as he felt a slim body inveigle itself in the same chair. He waited for a moment, then curled towards his heat. He felt one hand adjust his legs up and over Jisoo’s lap and a shoulder welcomed him by slanting down. For a moment he wished intensely that he could shelter behind Jisoo for the rest of his life. 

_ My Joshuji, who is doubly confusing these days. I wish I could understand what’s going on. Why are you preying on my thoughts now, not just that man? _

“Migraine again?” Jisoo asked as he resumed carding his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair. “You grew out your hair for the competition? I like it. You look softer with long hair. The robes are a bit much for the competition though.”

“It’s a pain,” Jeonghan mumbled, pressing his face into Jisoo’s neck. “It’s too much time spent caring for it. And no… the guys insisted. My head’s not really sore, not a migraine, it’s just nerves, I suppose.”

“You’re frightened of facing him again,” Jisoo said quietly. “It’s understandable. But you know, I trust you. You two have come so far these past few weeks that it seems like a miracle to me.” He adjusted a lock of hair to the side, running his hand through the super-long, heavy length of it. “Come on. Things will be better afterwards, you’ll see. We can talk then, perhaps sort this solution. He’s not going to listen beforehand.”

“When did you get so wise, hm?”

“Excuse you, I’ve always been wise. Come on. The sooner we solve this, the sooner you can get a headache potion and a nap; I’ll cut this off if you don’t want it.”

_ He knows me way too well. I’d kill for a headache potion and a nap right now. _

Jeonghan smiled ruefully and went with. He felt oddly floaty all the way to the Champions’ tent, through the conversation with the others, as if some pressure had been released he had not known about. In a way, he was glad Jisoo found him before the task; it was more than enough to offset the worry about the potential loss he faced today. 

He wasn’t sure it was enough to offset facing Seungcheol, who entered the tent a few moments after they did. They were alone in it, what with the other students being restricted still, and it showed in the slant of his shoulders.

_ I wonder if he had wanted a little encouragement from the others.  _

Jeonghan took a deep breath. “Good morning, Seungcheol-ssi,” he said, feeling odd about the mixture of English and Korean in his mouth. Ignoring it, he simply put his hands politely to his waist and bowed over them. “Good luck with the competition today.”

To his side, Jisoo stepped forward to give the stoic wizard a quick kiss-kiss to the air next to his cheeks. “Good luck Cheollie,” he said softly. 

Jeonghan watched Seungcheol inhale and wryly said nothing: the Durmstrang champion’s attraction was so patently clear that the doubt Jihoon had caused earlier reared its head again. It made him wonder, dimly, what it would be like to have someone so absolutely kind interested in him. Jisoo was flirty enough that he could imagine it with no difficulty whatsoever; hell, in his dream last night it hadn’t been difficult at  _ all _ . He’d be kind and warm and devilish, delicious with those wonderful hands and precise, perfect lips...

Thinking about Jisoo that way made him feel odd and queasy, not because the thought was repulsive but because he wasn’t sure whether he was jealous or not -- he had long since started pushing Jisoo towards Seungcheol, if only because he couldn’t think of two more deserving people. Now it felt as if one part of his heart was tearing away from the other.

He felt a roil of strange nothingness in his mind as he watched the two interact and simply breathed out, standing when the judges called them out. 

_ Stop thinking about this. There are things I don’t think out loud, even to myself. Just get through this. Just switch your heart off for a bit. _

Walking to the Udo square was like walking to a strange wonderland made by a demented Alice. Things still moved in there, looped strangely: the fish were wooden but swam and sunk and traced figures around other things, there was a whole load of furniture animations that he didn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole, and the square was so filled with possibilities that his problem was too much randomness instead of too little. Breathing out, he closed his eyes and tried to fall in the headspace where minds were distant to him, where it was just him and the grey noise, where he didn’t hear the judges or Jisoo or even the faint whispers from Seungcheol.

Yoon Jeonghan swallowed the moment down like acid, and prepared to lose the best he had ever lost in his life.

* * *

_ Spectator Stands, morning: _

The Heads didn’t make the same mistake with the students this time, Chan thought, watching as some instructors settled in the midst of the section where the competitors and foreign schools sat. He had to apologise his way past three of them personally, almost stepping on one’s foot when Seungkwan reached to pluck him closer and pull him down into the little space between the Gryffindor and Mingyu. He nestled in there, glad of Mingyu’s bulk keeping the wind off his ears, and suffered through a check-up of his warming charms by a nervous, clucking pair of fifth-years.

“You’re our spotter for today,” Seungkwan- _hyung_ whispered to him. “Pay careful attention and tell me what you think is happening, okay? Are you comfortable? Do you want a cushioning charm? You should have worn a scarf, Channie, your ears are so pink already…”

“ _Hyung_ ,” he said despairingly. “Leave off. They’re pink because you’ve got three charms layered on me. Take one off at least, please?” He paused to look around. “Where’s Jihoon- _hyung_?”

Mingyu grimaced and surreptitiously passed on a packet of nuts. “With Soonyoung- _hyung_ , in the medical wing. He’s not leaving there, I think.”

Chan palmed the nuts and fake-coughed to throw a few into his mouth, lest they somehow disapprove of his chewing, and felt a little of the cold return as Seungkwan relented and took off one of the charms. Braced between the two of them he had an excellent view of the screen - they were seated just above the Beauxbatons line - and waited for the view to come up before he concentrated on Jeonghan-hyung’s face. When it did, he frowned almost immediately.

It was the same facial expression Chan had seen from him the first night here, that perfectly blank, somewhat-friendly canvas Purebloods of high breeding used. No emotions, just a faint curl of the mouth-corners upwards, and the tiniest riffle of faintly narrowed eyes. Oh, he looked absolutely marvellous: rich and royal and imposing, but it wasn’t an expression Chan particularly associated with winning. Frowning, he handed the packet of nuts back to Seungkwan, paused as Lee Seokmin mumbled and leant back against his legs, and finally leant to their fifth-year Champion.

“ _Hyung_ ,” he whispered softly whilst he still could. “Why’s he looking like that?”

Seungkwan turned his head to frown quickly at him, then looked to the screen as well before he exhaled, a long low sound. “He’s preparing himself,” he muttered to Chan. “You may win, you may lose, but you  _ never _ let your enemies see that you’re bothered by what they’re doing. What he’s doing here, it’ll have far-reaching consequences back home. I don’t know if I can explain the politics of the situation right now...” 

Chan felt the nuts go dry in his mouth and swallowed bitterly to get them down. Out of sheer impulse, he reached to squeeze Seungkwan’s nearest hand. “When you’re seventeen, you’re all coming to stay with me,” he muttered. “Screw politics. You and him, right? And everyone else. We’ll stay in my grandpa’s old house and everyone else can shove off.”

Seungkwan’s eyes filmed with wetness before he smiled, nodded and looked away. Chan, wanting to get from the tenseness of the situation, leant down to drape his arms over Seokmin’s shoulders instead, and rested his chin on the brunette’s head. The past two weeks had proven to him that Seokmin was actual sunshine, the loveliest person he knew. 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he said happily, rubbing his chin into the older boy’s fantastic hair. “ _Hyung,_ you smell nice. Did you guys get into a lot of trouble yesterday? Who do you think is going to win?”

Seokmin tilted his head up and to the side to smile at him, and placed hands over his for a gentle squeeze. “We’re fine,” he explained sotto voce. “ _Vidame_ Thevenet doled out punishment, but it wasn’t too onerous.” He pouted. “That’s a difficult question though, is your _hyung_ particularly good at this? Joshua isn’t a slouch, not by a long shot, but Transfiguration isn’t his favourite subject.”

Chan grimaced. “No,” he finally muttered, rubbing his cheek back and forth against Seokmin’s hair, muscles relaxing a little as Seungkwan’s warm hand settled in the small of his back. “You know, _hyung_ , how you have to have a really good mental picture of the thing that you have to transfigure, or transfigure into?”

Seokmin solemnly nodded as much as he could. “Yes?”

“ _Hyung_ is extremely observant, he has a fantastic mind, right? But it’s a very practical kind of observation, and sometimes transfigurations have to have a little artistic flair. His mind fights against it. It’s the same reason why Seungkwan- _hyung_ is so pants at it.”

Seungkwan’s hand whacked his back. “I heard that,” he said from behind him. 

Chan grinned into Seokmin’s hair. “It’s true though, he would have done better in the fifth-year version of this, where it’s about precision. Jeonghan- _hyung_ ’s visual memory is off the scale, but he’s not  _ creative  _ with it. I’m afraid that’s going to lose him points. Does that make sense?”

“Mhm,” Seokmin muttered. “Joshua’s not quite the same, but it’s definitely not one of his strengths either.” He paused. “Are those snacks I smell? Gimme!”

“We have mixed nuts, is that ok? I can’t believe they don’t give us weekends to stock up.”

It was Minghao that reached from the side to smack Seokmin on his hand at that request. “No nuts,” he said with a tiny sideways glare. “You know what that does to your throat.”

Seokmin pouted extravagantly.

Of the lot of them Chan was the most surprised when Mingyu reached down stoically between them and handed over some of his prized gummies; Chan’s mouth hung open when he saw it, and straightened at Seokmin’s delighted exclamation.

“It’s for his throat right?” Mingyu muttered, looking away.

Chan opened his mouth to say something, but a loud noise sounded, attracting their attention to the front as the Jarl stepped up on the podium. 

“Good morning,” the Jarl said tightly, thudding the butt of her staff down on the podium. “Let me remind you that there will be no display of hooliganism like there was yesterday.” Her eyes roamed the assembled students. “Unless, of course, you feel rambunctious enough for another prolonged training session.”

The students fell as quiet as a pin -- no one wanted another two hours of Stallari Blix’s calisthenics.

“The task will proceed as follows: all three Champions may draw inspiration from the items left over by the two previous years, and pick thirty items which may be as complex or as simple as they desire. Each Champion will be allowed to go on as long as they wish, though the judges will be watching for signs of exhaustion and incomplete transfigurations. As always, their judgement will be the accepted one. The time limit for each transformation is one minute. Anything after that will be ruled as incomplete and said Champion will fall out. Points will also be given for the creativity of the transformation. The Champion with the most points will win.”

“Great,” Mingyu said sotto voce. “Quality  _ and _ quantity.”

Seungkwan snorted. “Well, they are seventh-year, I guess.”

The Jarl cleared her throat. “As the only school with less than thirty transfigured objects remaining, Durmstrang will wait until the other two champions choose their objects. Beauxbatons, Udo Hogwarts, please start. You have five minutes to select them -- float them to the front of the area, please.”

The selection went fairly quickly from what Chan could see. Jeonghan picked safely, eschewing the more difficult transfigurations; in the end he had a mix of inanimate and animate, herding them neatly into a little corral in front of him. His lips moved – Chan wished he had learnt how to read lips – and nodded to Judge Guerrier to vanish the rest. That alone took some doing, and he was pleased to see that Jeonghan-hyung looked a little livelier by the end of it, if the arch of his eyebrow at the judge’s response said anything.

A hand came sneaking over his leg and he looked down at it, then up to Seungkwan-hyung at his side. His tutor didn’t look at him, but focused on the big screens instead; Chan took pity on him and took his hand, cradling the beautiful fingers in his. For just a moment he felt a glance on him, looking around to see the Ice Prince look away.

_ Oh. Oh ho. _

His gaze travelled just a little - there was a  _ very _ pretty girl sitting next to the Ice Prince – before the whistle of the alarm attracted his attention and he whipped his head around as the competition started.

As he watched, Choi Seungcheol started with a safe choice, choosing to mimic a wolf that loped towards the back of their square. The beginning form was precise, right down to the last detail, before it bulked up and changed: its fur grew to have a heavily metallic tinge, its limbs stretched and the spine altered, until a werewolf stood there, taller than the judge it towered over but clearly with no desire to attack. Chan had to admire the way the Champion held his mind and the smoothness of his transfiguration; it was when he fell forward onto his paws and morphed straight into a chaise-longue of surprising artifice that he knew Choi Seungcheol was a master at this.

Most wizards he knew, especially students, could not chain their transfigurations together, especially not such a precise glide between forms. They had to revert to their human shape, lest they lost their grasp on humanity: it was only animagi that could maintain an animalistic shape for a long time without losing that which made them human: their mind. That the Durmstrang champion could not only attain a seemingly supernatural shape, but move straight into a piece of furniture was breathtaking; it tightened in his chest with the desire to be able to do that as well.

He shook Seungkwan’s hand. “Look,” he whispered as he leant into them. “Look, he’s so good, _hyung_. I wish I could be that good, do you think he’d teach me if I asked nicely?”

Seungkwan looked, head tilted a little in amazement and just a little reserve. “You’re already good, but perhaps wait a little? Just… just until the school is a little friendlier to us? Look over there though, Jeonghan-hyung is doing very well as well.”

Chan looked and swallowed: he had seen Jeonghan transfigure things before, but never himself, and the elegant simplicity with which he managed it made his heart ache. He had been correct when he talked about Jeonghan’s superior visual memory; their seventh year Champion displayed that now, moving simply into stunning mimicry of Korea’s national tree, a red pine of surprising growth and twisted beauty. His hair shortened and turned into a million green spiky leaves, his fingers and limbs splayed together, then apart, and then…

And then things changed, and Chan was forced to admit he didn’t know Yoon Jeonghan as well as he did: mist filtered around the tree first, then shoots began to spring up, and the laughter of fey spirits rang out over the beach. From a concealed spot, a figure both fox and man stepped out, dressed in high regalia and with sharp golden eyes: it presented a golden flower to the judge before it faded and tumbled, splitting into nine-tailed foxes as they disappeared back into the mist.

“What?” Seokmin gaped in front of him. “What?”

“He switched just before the laughter began,” Mingyu explained tightly as he leant down, passing on another handful of gummies. “He switched when he transfigured the other trees from beach sand; the mist helped conceal it. The armour he had on was the same as Jeonghan- _hyung_ had on this morning, but I don’t blame him, there was already so much to keep track of…”

Chan, looking between the screens, ignored the savage clench Seungkwan had on his hand to pat Minghao-hyung on the shoulder. “Look … look there at Shua- _hyung_!”

Off in the distance, beyond the misty display Jeonghan had crafted, a new tree grew to touch the sky: gold, brown, and yellow bark decorated it in patches, and its branched splintered oddly against the spotlights on it; Chan gasped as what he thought were knots on the bark opened and became eyes instead, filling the tree with dozens of fluttering, blinking orbs, each iris a slightly different colour. It was so strange, so weird he didn’t know what to say. He settled for a wordless grunt of jealousy and irritation, wishing yet again he had their control.

“Oh my,” Seungkwan muttered softly. “Oh, that’s beautiful, but so strange, almost surreal – does anyone know where he got that from, or is he just that good at imagining these things?”

“It’s an homage to a Gustav Klimt painting,” a cool soft voice said into the silence. “The Tree of Life. It’s a remarkable rendition, the eyes are especially good, but…”

Chan looked over his shoulder again to Vernon Chwe, ignoring the pretty girl and the teachers nearby. “But?” he said almost pugnaciously, ready to snarl.

“But,” Minghao- _hyung_ answered from in front of them, “it was a mistake so early, he might have wasted too much of his concentration on something that splashy. Same with Yoon Jeonghan-ssi.”

Grimacing – the Durmstrang Champion didn’t say anything, merely nodded with – Chan turned, grumpy now. The two were soon proven right: though Jeonghan- _hyung_ and Shua- _hyung_ were still going, and moving through fantastical shapes, they began to flag as the Durmstrang champion sped up. Jeonghan- _hyung_ was the first to fall out, stepping back from a cat-god transformation to shake his head to the judge, choosing instead to stand at the judge’s side and watch. Shua- _hyung_ came next, dinged for an improper transfiguration as he attempted a salon full of furniture like a museum might have held.

Nothing seemed to phase Choi Seungcheol, however; not being a twisted hellscape that Escher might have drawn, nor the countless fountains, animals, rocky cliff faces and the rest, and certainly not the little figurine he had left for last. 

“Watch,” Jeon Wonwoo says from his perch on Jun’s other side, austere face composed. “He’ll do it now.”

It grew quiet in the stands and the hush grew cold. In the Durmstrang square the dim figure of a man bent down and reached to the sand; the screens showed him whispering to the beach until a creak from the ocean disturbed them. Chan watched, spellbound, as a large ship came sailing in from the sea, in appearance an old Viking longboat. Shields decorated its sides, and the echoing creak of the sails came accompanied by crows as large as an albatross. In the ship, just as it crested onto the beach and into the square, a great-shouldered shape hulked large, bristling with fur.

“It’s so large,” Seungkwan muttered. “How is he doing that? How is he making something that complex, that large?”

Chan looked sideways at the sound of a whimpered noise - Jun was crying softly, hand held in Wonwoo’s - before he swallowed, guessing. “I don’t know, but I’m guessing he’s been practising that forever -- perhaps a hollow shell? Or somehow… I don’t know. I honestly don’t. That’s Master-level work, the other transfigurations were much smaller in scale.”

In the end, the crowd sat mute with admiration as the longboat ground up the shore and came to a stop. Chan watched, heart in his throat and just a little in love as the bear wandered down a plank. It was absolutely huge, walking with a deceptive grace and obvious strength. 

In the charm-lit darkness, the bear seemed even larger than normal, shaggy with winter fur. The shape held surprisingly well and the bear sauntered up first to his judge, there to rear and delicately put its paws on Judge Markides’ shoulders, then to the other contestants. The whole school watched as first Shua- _hyung_ , then surprisingly Jeonghan- _hyung_ , got a lick across their faces before it sat down on its butt, quite clearly willing to wait out the judges’ shocked expressions.

“Oh my gosh,” Mingyu said very softly. “I knew he was an animagus, but that’s the first time I’ve seen it. How long did it take him to reach that shape even?”

A minute later, first one then all three Judges’ wands went up, and a shower of gold and red sparks fountained in the night, bursting like firecrackers high over the beach. “Task complete, Durmstrang!” Judge Markides called out, voice enhanced with a Sonorous charm.

The entire crowd surged to their feet, hooting and whistling and cheering. Chan clapped his hands red for Choi Seungcheol, breathless and impressed, and wished once again to be that great one day.

Jarl Elektra gave them a minute for applause as she conferred with the judges before stepping on the podium again; she didn’t need to wave for silence. “The first task of the tournament falls to Durmstrang,” she said solemnly, but clearly proudly. “In second place Beauxbatons, in third Udo Hogwarts. The points will be adjusted on the counters in the Langhus. Well fought to all Champions, and congratulations to Durmstrang.” Given the proud, fierce expression on her face, it clearly meant something to her to be able to say those words. “Dismissed.”

Chan surged forward with the rest to get to the Champions to congratulate them; he felt just a tad sad that Jeonghan- _hyung_ didn’t win, but Choi Seungcheol had deserved his win, finishing all his items, and he would be proud to tell him so. If, of course, he could get near him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Reminder: in this AU the title for Beauxbatons' Heady Boy is Seigneur. 
>   * The spell Soonyoung uses is a custom one (he and Jun are the spell creators of the Houseketeers), and the incantation is _Mutatis Mutandis_ , after the Medieval Latin phrase that means 'once the necessary changes have been made' or 'having changed what needs to be changed'. It was inspired by the Weasleys' duplication spell, but with a few other little bits. It is, however, a Transfiguration effect, not a Charms effect, thus legal. 
> 



End file.
